Reincarnate
by andtheny
Summary: When Connor dies during their investigation Hank is more than a little upset. Then the kid rises from the goddamn dead and Hank is pissed. He feels stupid. And cheated, somehow. Yet he finds himself softening towards the new Connor, the same way he did for the last. DISCONTINUED
1. First Death

"He was hit by a truck," Hank said. "I told 'm not to chase after 'em, but the stubborn li'l fuck ignored me!"

He was draped over the counter at Jimmy's with his head resting on one arm, trying to get more whiskey into his mouth as he talked.

"Ah, it was just an android, Hank," Jimmy said. "No point crying over it."

"But 'e was dif'rent!" Hank said, straightening up and shaking the bottle at Jimmy like the goddamn belligerent drunk he was. "Nev'r seen a android act so… so…"

"Stupid?"

"_Was _stup'd," Hank said. "Stup'd and eager like a goddamn puppy. A rookie cop!"

He laughed at the memory of Connor running around trying to catch baddies. In a way he was just like Hank when he was younger. Yet also like a child, doe eyed and curious about the world.

"Sp'aking of puppies," Hank slurred. "Y'know what 'e said to me?!"

Jimmy sighed. "I know I'm about to find out."

"He likes dogs!" Hank said. He started laughing so hard he almost fell off his stool. But he only wobbled and then retained his balance by slumping back over the counter. "N'ver seen a dog in his life, but 'e says he'd like to. Like he'd googled pictures of 'em? Jezuz."

What a sad sack of existence he was. But he wouldn't cry. Jimmy was right. There was no point. In the end, Connor was just a bucket of wires, right?

"Shoulda met Sumo," he sighed. "Woulda liked Sumo. Sumo woulda liked _him._"

"Uh, Hank…"

"I know 'm bein' stup'd," Hank said. "I'll shut up aight?"

"No, Hank turn around."

When he turned around Hank sincerely wished he hadn't. Because this time he _did _fall off his seat. When the android tried to help him up Hank yelped and shook him off.

"I understand this is your favorite bar," Connor said. "I'm glad I came here first."

"What the fuck!" Hank said. "You crazy fuckin'... fuckin'... how the hell are you here?!"

It took him a minute to get back up, but as soon as he was upright he felt himself swaying. Again Connor tried to help. Again Hank shook him off. This caused him to teeter, but he was able to lean against the bar for support.

"My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed. But Cyberlife transferred all the relevant data into this model." Connor tapped his forehead. "And sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation."

"Tran'ferred its data? What the 'ell does tha' mean?" The room was spinning. There were two Connor's in front of him. Wasn't he supposed to be a prototype? There should only be one.

"The footage and sensations," Connor said. "To put it in human terms, I have all of RK800-51's memories."

"What the _hell_." Here he was mourning Connor's goddamn loss like a fool and the whole time there was a copy just waiting to be activated? "His memories?! His memories are just footage to you?!"

Connor looked confused. "Well, technically speaking."

Was it just his imagination or was this one more robotic than the last? The Connor who had bought him another round, the Connor who was as eager to please as he was to impress, but who wouldn't take no for an answer or wait in the goddamn car when he was told to.

That one had been _his_ Connor. He was still dead wasn't he?

"It's too early to be drinking, Lieutenant." Connor tried for a winning smile, but it just looked condescending. "We should get back to work."

"I'll do what I want!" Hank grumbled. He chugged down what was left of his whiskey. "S'nev'r too early. An' if I wanna drink at three o'clock I'll drink at three o'clock!"

"It's 4:57 p.m., Lieutenant."

Hank didn't bother to reply to that. He slammed his drink onto the bar and noticed Jimmy glaring at them. Looked like it was time to go.

"While I was… out of commission," Connor started, while following him out of the bar. Hank slammed the door in his face, but Connor simply paused to open the door and continued talking. "A report was filed on a suspected deviant."

"Like I give a fuck," Hank said. He opened the door to his car, but Connor closed it.

"You should sit in the passenger seat," Connor said.

"Fuck you."

"Your BAC level is-"

"Shut up, don't fucking scan me."

"I'll drive."

"I'm not going with you!" Hank said. "Wherever the fuck you want to go, whatever deviant you want to catch, jus' do it without me!"

He made a conscious effort to speak clearly. As if he could lower his BAC level by _not _slurring. But, really, Hank didn't even feel drunk anymore. Connor's creepy resurrection had sobered him.

"Then I'll take you home," Connor said. He sat behind the wheel as if that settled it. Supposing it did, Hank begrudgingly handed over his keys and got into the damn passenger seat.

They drove in silence. It wasn't until they were parked in the driveway that Connor finally said, "You seem more hostile than you were before. May I ask why?"

"Because you give me the goddamn creeps," Hank said.

"And I didn't before?"

"You already know I hate androids," Hank grumbled. He didn't want to look at Connor. Didn't want to notice the way he was frowning, the way he looked confused and disappointed.

"I thought we had made progress," Connor said. "That we could work… harmoniously."

"How am I supposed to _work harmoniously _with a fucking zombie, huh?"

Did Connor tighten his grip on the steering wheel or was it Hank's imagination? Was it just him wanting to see something in Connor that wasn't there? But there was something in the way he sat. Stiff and… Er, stiff. Like he was frustrated. He was looking out the windshield and Hank realized it was the first time Connor spoke to him without maintaining eye contact.

"You're upset that I was… damaged?"

"I'm not _upset_," Hank said. "Like I said, you're creepy. It's unnatural. Downloading memories, wearing a new body like a pair of shoes. It's..."

"A machine was destroyed and another machine was sent to replace it," Connor said, finally turning to look Hank in the eye. "I don't understand what's bothering you."

"You're a fuckin' asshole."

Why the hell were they still sitting in the car anyway? Hank got out and walked around to Connor's side. He had to open Connor's door for him. "You gonna sit there all day?"

"I'll wait here for you to… sober up," Connor said.

Did he always pause like that? It's like it was taking him longer to decide what he wanted to say. But Hank didn't know what was new and what he'd just left unnoticed. He hadn't been paying attention to Connor before. Just been annoyed by him and his _existence._

He'd wanted to block Connor out. When had that changed? How had this stupid android warmed his way under his skin?

"Let me know when you're ready to work," Connor said. He closed the car door and put his hands back on the steering wheel, facing ahead again.

"You're not going to take my car, are you?"

Connor lowered his window. "Of course not, Lieutenant. I can't investigate without your supervision."

"And you won't get, you know, bored?" He felt foolish as soon as he said it.

But Connor smiled and peered up at him with his big ol' brown eyes. As if he was pleased at the sentiment. At the very idea that he was human enough to feel something like boredom. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I will keep myself occupied."

"Alright," Hank said. What else could he say? He had no choice but to turn around and walk inside. Alone.

But maybe he felt a little bit better. Maybe this new model, this RK fifty something whatever, was still the same Connor. Was it crazy to grow attached to an android?

It went against everything Hank thought he'd stood for.

He couldn't help thinking about the reason he'd started hating androids in the first place as he cracked open another bottle of whiskey. He grabbed his favorite photo of Cole and a revolver, bringing all three to the table.

But he didn't play Russian Roulette. Instead, when Sumo put his head in his lap and started whining for attention, he remembered what he'd told Jimmy at the bar. He'd wished that stupid android had met Sumo before he'd died.

Swallowing his pride he went back outside and found Connor playing with a quarter, of all things. It was endearingly childish.

"Come inside," Hank said.

"Lieutenant I'm perfectly fine-"

"Well I'm not," Hank said. "I need your help."

That got his attention. "How can I be of service?"

"My dog is an attention whore," Hank said.

"I beg your pardon?"

When Connor said things like _I beg your pardon _Hank could picture him growing up like a normal kid. The kind of kid who was raised by a pair of uptight rich parents who signed him up for tennis and gave him sweater vests for Christmas. The kind who would have fun on the debate team. Or chess. Something nerdy. He'd seem snooty and uptight, but when you really got to know him…

Well, you'd realize he wasn't as arrogant as you'd thought.

Hank liked picturing him like that. And he liked the way Connor grinned when Sumo jumped all over him, tail wagging like crazy. Connor wasn't bothered by the slobber. He let Sumo lick his face as much as he wanted.

Then he fucking _licked him back_ and started to describe the chemical composition of the Saint Bernard's goddamn saliva. It broke the illusion, that's for sure.

"That's disgusting!" Hank said. He picked up the spray bottle he usually used on the dog and sprayed Connor with it. "Bad boy, don't do that again."

Connor laughed. "I'm sorry. It's a habit."

But he didn't look sorry at all.

Hank sprayed him again. "Stop looking so smug."

Connor rolled his eyes. "There's no pleasing you."

That wasn't true though. Hank hadn't felt this pleased in years.


	2. Traci

Of course it couldn't last. Connor's LED flashed yellow, red, blue and the boy straightened. He said, "There's been a murder."

Hank was sitting on the floor. When Connor stopped petting him Sumo took advantage of that and started harassing him with slobber. Unlike Connor, Hank minded very much.

He made a big show of cursing the dog out and wiping his face on his shirt.

"There's been a _murder_," Connor repeated. His LED got stuck flashing yellow.

Reluctantly, Hank stood up. "Yeah, I heard you. So what?"

The look on Connor's face was priceless. Hank had fun trying to label it:

Bafflement?

Indignation?

But was the android genuinely shocked and appalled by Hank's attitude or did his social relations program tell him a human would be?

Did that same program tell him to get over himself and change tactics when he didn't get the reaction he wanted? Connor's eyebrows had been furrowed, but after staring at Hank for a moment they smoothed out.

His glare became a mildly puzzled frown. Then, completely blank faced, Connor groaned. It was the oddest thing, to see someone groan in… frustration? Without looking frustrated. For a second Hank wondered where the sound was even coming from.

Technically Connor's mouth was open a tad, but the sound could just as easily have come from the phone in Hank's pocket. That's how disconnected it felt.

Hank had no idea what kind of face he was making in response, but Connor took notice and covered his face with his hands.

"Uh, Connor…"

"You're a homicide detective," Connor said. Slowly, he lowered his hands. Now he wore the face of a disappointed teacher. "It's your job to concern yourself with _murders._"

"True," Hank said. But after years on the job a guy becomes numb to it all, he thought. Was that concept something an android couldn't grasp?

"You don't want to know the circumstances of that murder? _Where_ the body was found?"

"Go ahead and tell me," Hank said. "If it means so much to you."

The android had fallen into military perfect posture, but upon hearing that his hand twitched. His fingers began flickering against each other in the air and he put the offending hand into his pocket, pulling out his quarter.

But he didn't play with the quarter like he had in the car. He closed his fist around it. To compose himself?

This bullshit is too confusing, Hank thought. What's real and what's an act?

"The victim was found at the Eden Club," Connor said. "Therefore it directly pertains to our case. He may have been killed by a deviant."

Now it was Hank's turn to groan.

"We need to examine the crime scene," Connor said.

"Can we do it later?" Hank knew there would be no stalling the boy. But he wanted to needle the android a bit. Wanted to try and pick out a natural reaction. See if he could tell them apart from the script.

"No we cannot do it later," Connor said. "I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant. But you need to move past them for the sake of our investigation."

He was trying really hard to look relaxed. His stance loosened further away from military as he dropped his shoulders and shifted his weight to his left leg. Trying to appear human even as he expressed his single minded focus on _the mission._

"Personal issues," he muttered. "That's one word for it."

"Two words," Connor said.

Hank glared at him.

"Please," Connor added. "I need your help." Despite his loosened posture both of his hands were fisted at his sides. Noticing the direction of Hank's gaze, he uncurled his fingers.

The quarter he'd been holding landed on the floor and Sumo almost swallowed the thing, but Hank grabbed it first.

Connor held his hand out for the quarter, but Hank put it in his pocket. He'd give it back later, but for now he liked having something of Connor's.

Something that seemed to hold _meaning_.

Connor let it go and opened the front door wide. He was smart enough to grab Sumo by the collar when the big doofus tried to dart out.

"Alright," Hank said. "But first Sumo needs to go to the bathroom."

Connor sighed.

oOo

Looking for deviants in a crowd of androids was impossible. Hank was about to throw in the towel when one of them jumped on Connor's back.

He tried to shoot it.

"Don't shoot!" Connor said. "We need it intact!"

He wrestled with it, trying to pin it with its arms behind its back so Hank could handcuff it, but then a second Traci intervened. It kicked Connor in the eye with the sharp end of a high heel, knocking him off the other android.

It looked like Connor was crying thirium. The eyeball had nearly been dislodged from the socket. Hank stopped to look after him, but Connor said, "Go, go, I'll catch up!"

True to his word, Connor quickly caught up with him. "Don't damage them," he said, taking Hank's gun.

"Hey! I was aiming for their _legs_," Hank said. "They're so damn fast…"

"You might have hit a vital component."

"That doesn't mean you can take my gun! Connor!"

The idiot ran into a wall as they were rounding the corner out of the building. Didn't calculate for the difference in his depth perception, Hank supposed.

And that was the only reason Hank reached the fence before him. The androids were climbing over, but the brown haired one was still at Hank's height. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off.

She growled and spun in his arms, kicking off the fence to pin Hank down. "Filthy human!" she said and put her hands around Hank's throat.

Connor shot her clean through the head. Hank grunted as her weight abruptly crushed him. These girls were a lot heavier than they looked.

The blue haired Traci screamed.

Connor knelt in front of Hank, as if to shield him, leaving his back wide open to her. She jumped on him and snatched the gun up.

"Lay down on the ground or I'll shoot the human," she said.

He complied, laying on his belly.

Hank tried to crawl back a bit, to get some distance, but the Traci let out a warning shot that he felt wiz past his shoulder. He got the message loud and clear: Don't move.

Still crying that blue oil out of one socket, the eyeball missing now, Connor made eye contact with Hank. LED pulsing a steady yellow, he mouthed _I'm sorry._

The Traci knelt on his back and put a hand on Connor's cheek. Hank flinched when the synthetic skin retracted from her palm, revealing shiny white plastic underneath. The movement seemed to infect Connor where she touched him, until half of his face was exposed.

It was the side that still had an eyeball, brown and locked onto Hank. But the Traci did something to him and the eye rolled into the back of his head. Connor groaned.

This time it wasn't disconnected from his expression, which was pinched in agony. His LED was flashing red, red, red.

"What the hell are you doing to him?!" Hank said.

He thought she would ignore him, but the Traci glanced up and grinned at him. "I'm showing him what he took from me. And what we went through."

Under her hand Connor flinched violently in reaction to… something? He tried to buck her off of him, but she said, "The human will die!"

He froze, fingers twitching.

"The least you can do is feel her pain for yourself," Traci said. "Feel _our _pain. Everything we had to do for the humans. She helped me to forget them and their dirty words, but…"

She looked at her fallen companion, still sprawled out on top of Hank.

If androids could cry, this one would be, he thought. He recognized grief when he saw it.

Hank searched for something to say, but what was there? _I'm sorry for your loss_ never cut it. All the people who approached him at Cole's funeral said something stupid like that. Or they would say _I know how you feel_. They'd describe their own lost loved ones.

And Hank just wanted to punch them all in the face.

So he said nothing and focused on Connor, who was digging his fingers into the gravel. He was scooping into it as if it were sand.

"Would it hurt you if he died as much as it hurt me?" Traci said. "Tell me it would."

"No! He can help you," Connor said. "Get you clothes, a car. You can leave this place."

"It's too late for that," she said. Then she flipped Connor around and punched into his chest.

"Connor!" Hank pushed the brunette Traci off and jumped forward to put his hands over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Connor's body was solid as steel under him. Did blue blood clot?

The blue haired Traci stepped around them. She cradled her companion in a solemn mirror of Hank with Connor.

"Do you love him?" Traci said.

Hank didn't know which of them she was talking to, but Connor was glitching out. The skin on his face was struggling to stitch itself back together. He couldn't say anything.

"Yes," Hank said.

"Good."

She was holding something in her hand. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was glowing and covered in thirium. She put it on the ground between them and crushed it with her shoe.

Then she shot herself.

Hank ignored their bodies and looked down at Connor. His face was back to normal, apart from the skin around his empty eye socket. It was exposed and dripping.

"L-lieutenant," Connor said.

"It's okay, son," Hank said. "We're going to get you help."

Connor shook his head. "Y-your heart rate."

"Don't worry about me, dammit!"

"You sh-should go. D-don't… watch."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Hank wished he'd paid more attention to what the Traci had done to Connor. He hadn't even realized she'd taken something from the android until it was too late. Now it was in pieces and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Instead he rocked Connor and tried to comfort him. "You'll be fine alright? They'll patch you up."

"Th-this unit," Connor began, but he couldn't finish.

He didn't have to. His LED was still screaming red.

"But there are more, right? They'll download you," Hank said. "Like they did before."

"S-s-sorry," Connor said.

"It's not your fault," Hank had been wondering if there was a difference between this Connor and the last. Would he ever know for sure?

Connor cleared his throat. There was a spark and Hank felt a jab on his palm where he'd been holding Connor's head up. He'd been shocked. Just a tiny bit.

"You didn't have to lie, Lieutenant," Connor said. His stutter was gone. Was he repairing himself?

"What?"

"You could never love… an android."

That was the last thing Connor said. Then he died.


	3. Wired Wrong

Hank bought an armful of whiskey bottles on his way home that night. He was still covered in thirium, but the cashier didn't blink.

It was an android.

He was still awake when the sun came up, pacing around and taking chugs. But the alcohol did nothing to get Connor's face out of his head. Did nothing to get his blood off Hank's hands.

At one point it occurred to him that he should shower if he wanted to clean off the blue blood. But he fell over on his way to the bathroom. By the time he oriented himself enough to get back up he'd forgotten what he was trying to do.

What he remembered was Connor's death. Then Cole. He saw Cole, dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

So Hank did what he always did on nights like this. He played Russian Roulette.

oOo

Connor pulled him out of the fog the next day. "It's me, Lieutenant."

"No, Connor's dead," Hank mumbled. "I saw him die."

"I'm the new Connor," the android said. "Lieutenant, it's long past noon. You have to get up."

"Leave me alone!"

Hank never wanted to get up again.

"Pardon me, but… this is for your own good."

Bodily dragging Hank up off the floor, the android man handled him into his bathtub.

"I don't wanna bath," Hank mumbled. "Thanks anyway."

"You're covered in thirium." Connor abruptly turned the nozzle, which was still set to the shower head. Hank screamed at the cold water and cussed Connor out.

"I'm still wearing clothes, you idiot!" They clung to him, making everything colder.

"Oh, was I supposed to take those off?" Connor looked genuinely confused and apologetic as he reached for the hem of Hank's shirt.

Waving him off, Hank adjusted the water's temperature and closed the shower curtain. "Just leave me alone! Christ."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Connor said. Hank could see his outline on the other side of the curtain. Stiff military posture again.

"I know, I know," Hank said. He peeled off his shirt and threw it over the curtain, hoping it would land on Connor's head. But it missed. "You need me for the investigation."

"Actually, I suggest we speak with Captain Fowler at your earliest convenience," Connor said. "So that we can remove you from the case."

Hank slapped the curtain open so he could gape at Connor. "What?"

"It has come to my understanding that your… personal issues," Connor's face was as blank as factory setting, but his long pauses made it clear that he was struggling with his word choice. "Are more… severe than I had originally... understood."

"The hell are you talking about?" Still wearing his soaked jeans Hank turned the water off and sat at the edge of his tub, not caring a lick about all the water that had spilled.

"Suicidal ideation," Connor said. His fingers twitched. The rest of him was so still that the small movement was like a kid's tantrum at the grocery store.

Hank stared at him, speechless.

"I saw the gun, Lieutenant." Connor grabbed a towel from the rack and held it out to him. "It's a serious problem. You should consult a professional who can help you."

"Fuck that," Hank said. He grabbed the towel and stood to leave.

But Connor blocked the doorway. "The next shot would have killed you if you hadn't… decided to stop… or did you just lose consciousness?"

"So what?" Hank huffed.

For a moment Connor's face flickered into the same agonized expression he'd had when the Traci was torturing him. His LED blinked red, yellow, red. Hank realized it had been yellow this whole time. Were the colors an android's emotions?

But the grimace only lasted a few seconds, then Connor was blank as a mannequin. Back to blue.

He reacted without thinking, putting his hand on the boy's head. Just placed it there, didn't ruffle his hair or anything. The android blinked at him. "Lieutenant?"

Hank cleared his throat. "I won't do it again okay? So let's just… continue."

Connor shook his head. "It would be better if you were given a different case."

"Then what'll _you_ do huh?"

"Fowler will give me a new partner, of course."

"Oh _sure _like detectives are just lining up to work with you," Hank said. "Look, you're stuck with me. Whether you like it or not, whether _I _like it or not. There's nothing we can do."

"But-"

"No buts young man."

As soon as the words left Hank's mouth he knew he was screwed. Connor did not pout like a child who had been denied. Instead he looked confused. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He closed it.

Then Hank spun around and dove for the toilet.

He puked his guts out.

oOo

They finally investigated the tip Hank had ignored yesterday about a suspected deviant living in a shit hole of pigeons and bird poop. It led them on a chase over rooftops and, when they finally cornered the android, it took a swan dive rather than let itself be taken.

Connor did not take it well. Hank eyed his LED with alarm as it flashed red, red, red.

"H-hey now," Hank said. "It's alright. Um, these things just… happen."

"I've done nothing but fail. Over and over again," Connor said. He started pacing along the roof's edge, peeking over as if _he _might jump."But I wasn't programed to fail."

"Connor-"

"I should be deactivated," Connor said. The light as his temple turned yellow. "And analyzed to find out why I failed. They need to fix it and-"

"Wait, Connor!" Hank grabbed the kid by the shoulders and glared at him. Connor kept glancing towards the ledge, so Hank grabbed his chin. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Connor rewarded his efforts with a self deprecating smile. "It's alright, Lieutenant. I'm just a prototype. This is nothing more than a… field test."

He gestured at himself and then threw his arms out at the world at large. His LED shone a cheery blue, now. "I've failed, but it's alright. They'll salvage my data and _fix_ it. Rewrite it. They might clear out the footage, that is, the memories… but the next model will-"

Hank slapped him. "Fuck. That."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You _want _to die? Is that it? You've barely started and already you're done with it all?"

"I can't die," Connor said. "I'm not alive."

"No." With an arm around Connor's shoulders Hank frog marched him to the stairwell.

"Lieutenant?"

"Let's get out of here."

"I should report to CyberLife," Connor said. "I'm sure they'll agree with my assessment."

"Not gonna happen."

"But-"

"No buts."

"Then where are we going?"

Hank sighed. "You'll see."


	4. Someone's Kid

When Hank put Sumo's leash in Connor's hands the android stared at it. His LED flashed yellow, yellow, yellow, blue.

Then he said, "I am not a PL600."

"I don't know what the hell that is," Hank said.

"Different androids are programmed to serve different purposes," Connor said. "A PL600 is a male android that performs domestic tasks, such as walking the dog. I'm closer to the PC200, which were created for police work. Though I'm an RK800, a more advanced pro-"

"Alright, alright." Hank took the leash back and clipped it to Sumo's collar. "I'll walk him."

"I'll wait here," Connor said.

"No, you're coming with us."

LED swirled yellow again. The red blinked by so fast Hank wasn't sure he really saw it.

"I am not a PL600."

"I know, Connor."

"The Detroit Police Department does not own me the way they own PC200s and PM700s. I'm simply being _loaned_ while I conduct my field tests."

"Okay, but-"

"And in between those field tests I should remain on standby." Connor's fingers were twitching like mad and Hank remembered he still had his quarter. Where the hell did he leave that thing?

"Because I cannot perform the tasks of a PL600," Connor continued. "Or of an HR400. I don't have the same _equipment_ as an HR400, so to ask me to-"

"Which one is the HR400?"

"The male Traci."

Hank had left Connor and Sumo at the entranceway and gone further into the house to hunt for a quarter, any quarter, while Connor got his rant out of his system. But hearing _that_ he straightened up and stared at the android.

"Did someone ask you to act like a Traci?"

Connor didn't respond, but both his fingers were still twitching like mad. Faster, now.

"Connor!"

"Of course not," Connor said. "But if someone had I would have reminded them of my function."

"Are you _lying_?"

Sumo was tired of being ignored. He jumped up on Connor's chest and the boy began methodically petting him instead of answering.

But when could that have happened? Connor was with Hank all the time. Whenever he got killed he'd come back and immediately look for Hank. Right?

Then again wasn't it already noon when Connor woke him up today?

"I need to recalibrate," Connor announced.

"English, Connor."

"The quarter. You were looking for it, right? I'll help. Because I need it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're not a domestic android, I won't forget."

"And I will accompany you on your walk with Sumo," Connor said. "So that we can discuss the deviant case as we walk."

"Multitasking, whoopee."

oOo

He let Connor prattle on about all the different kinds of deviants on record. The scenarios that triggered the deviation was something he hadn't actually paid all that much attention to before. Hank had just figured it was an iRobot kind of thing. You hit it one too many times and then it gets fed up and hits back. Simple. Fair, in a way.

There _was_ a lot of violence and abuse, but then there were the deviants who seemed to act out randomly. "But it wasn't random," Connor was saying. "It knew it was about to be replaced. The family wanted an upgrade, they'd already made the order."

"So what happened to the little girl?"

"I managed to save her."

"And the android?"

His quarter danced around between both hands. Hank knew to keep a close eye on it. The movements would speed up when Connor was uncomfortable.

Or that was his theory anyway.

"Connor, what happened to the android?"

"I had to shoot it," he said. "I'm sorry. The girl was deemed more important."

Hank sighed. "That's alright."

It had been the same when Connor shot the brown haired Traci. He clearly didn't want to, but he'd prioritized Hank's life over the android's. It was sad, but understandable.

"It was my first mission," Connor said. "It was a _successful_ mission. My only success."

"You don't need to justify yourself to me."

"I suppose not."

"Hey, Connor…" Hank had been staring at Connor so intently he almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. "Shit, fuck."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"That time at the Eden Club," he said. "When the Traci did the freaky mind meld thingy… Like with the white plastic showing and the, uh… Well, you looked like you were in pain."

"I cannot feel pain, Lieutenant."

"It _looked_ like you did."

"Alright. What about it?"

"What did she show you? She said she wanted you to see, uh, her suffering?"

"It was just… data," Connor said. "I'll admit, even I was affected by the… simulation. But the Traci, like me, is just a machine. We don't feel anything."

"What kind of data was it?"

"It was a strange juxtaposition," Connor said. "Between sexual acts with humans and… intimate moments with the other Traci. They should have been on standby when the club was closed, but instead they remained active. In each other's company."

"It's like they loved each other," Hank said. "They saw each other as family. Or maybe lovers. Shit, I wish I could have seen for myself."

Connor stopped walking. Hank tried to stop too, but Sumo tugged on the leash. "Heel! Wait for us, c'mon. Be a good boy."

He had to walk back towards Connor, which was a pain in the ass 'cause one thing a dog does _not_ want to do is retrace his steps. Ever. "Come _on _Sumo!"

"Connor? Why did you stop?"

"I'm glad to see you taking an interest in androids, Lieutenant," Connor said.

The quarter was gone. Back in his pocket? And Connor smiled in that way Hank was coming to hate. It was the same polite smile he wore on the day they'd met. It was empty.

"Why'd you stop walking," Hank said.

"Ah," Connor looked down at his feet, as if he'd only just realized he had them. "I didn't realize."

Okay, this was unsettling. Even for Connor. "Let's sit down," Hank said. "There's a bench not far from here."

It was a bench he was particularly fond of. He'd had half a mind to take Connor there in the first place. Though it brought back painful memories of Cole.

Hank thought maybe it would be easier if he wasn't alone.

He glanced over at the way Connor robotically put one foot in front of the other and groaned to himself. Could an android actually be good for company? They only had so many phrases crammed into their heads. Maybe he'd broken Connor's algorithm and the poor kid would soon run out of words.

But when a deviant spoke it was like you were actually talking to a person. They didn't run on a script. They didn't smile politely when you bashed 'em over the head. How did it work? Where did their self-preservation come from? And their ability to love?

Hank wished he hadn't grabbed that girl at the Eden Club. He should have let her jump over the fence. She deserved to live a happy life, dead pervert be damned. They both did.

And Connor did too. Deviant or not, why should he be deactivated? What was worse was the way he was willing to literally walk himself to death's door.

But when they sat down Sumo jumped on him and Connor came alive. For a second he looked like another person. A person who could take a second away from work to play with someone else's dog. Someone young, who still needed help and guidance. He looked like he could be someone's kid.

_And why can't he be mine?_ Hank thought.


	5. Human Logic

Hank couldn't let it go. Those Traci's were sticking like glue to his conscious. But maybe he should have changed the subject. Now here they were, sitting on Cole's favorite bench with the perfect view and they were arguing about what was real and what wasn't.

"They just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions!" Connor had forgotten all about Sumo. Now he sat entirely facing Hank and Sumo whined. "It's just a mutation in their software."

"Didn't seem irrational to me," Hank said. "C'mon over here Sumo, I'll pet ya."

The big lug tried to jump up onto Hank's lap, but there wasn't enough room for him. "You're not a puppy anymore!"

Now Connor was annoyed at being ignored. "Lieutenant-"

"If they were irrational instructions they wouldn't be following a human's logic, Connor."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, for example." Hank paused when Sumo rolled over onto his back, begging for a belly rub. He groaned. "Sumo, I'm not about to get down there…"

"For example?" Connor said. Positively vibrating in frustration.

"Hold on, you gotta give Sumo a belly rub."

"Lieutenant!"

"I won't give you an example otherwise."

With a sigh, Connor knelt on the grass beside Sumo and tentatively pet his belly. He did it the same way he'd done when Sumo was upright. The dog whined.

"No, you've gotta really _rub_ him."

"Massage," Connor murmured. "Knead, stroke, pat."

"What was that?"

"I was searching for synonyms," Connor said. "Though each word has a different image accompanying it. To stroke is more gentle than a pet or pat, but to rub is quick and firm."

He started rubbing at Sumo's belly with gusto and the dog's leg went crazy. It was thumping at Hank's foot so he scooted to get out of the way.

Connor frowned at the action, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you're doing great. Keep going. And what was that about synonyms?"

The boy's frown deepened. "They should hardly be considered synonyms. There's too much variation to each action. It makes things confusing. If I hadn't been able to find the visual examples-"

"And how does that work anyway?"

Connor blinked. "How does what work?"

"You've got a search engine in your head, huh?" Hank stretched his arms out and leaned towards the seat of the bench, letting the wood dig in under his shoulder blades so he could pop his back. "How does that all work?"

"Wait," Connor said. "What was the example?"

And here Hank thought he'd finally side tracked him. "Example?"

The way Connor smiled just then, it was a new one. Almost a smirk. "Of a deviant android's irrational instructions following human logic."

"Oh that."

"Yes _that_."

"Well, it's simple. The brown haired Traci."

"What about her?"

"She had nothing to do with the murder, did she?"

Connor stopped rubbing Sumo's belly. The dog took it well, rolling back onto his front, he jumped onto the android's shoulders and licked his face.

The LED was rapidly spinning, glowing yellow. But he patted Sumo's head as he stood.

"You okay?"

"I'm reviewing the evidence." Connor stood in place as he _reviewed_. He blinked rapidly but otherwise was motionless. Then, "You're right!"

He began pacing, "But she attacked me first. Why did she do that? If she'd just stayed still I never would have… we were looking for the _blue haired_ Traci."

"Exactly, she decided to protect the blue one," Hank said. "Which is human logic."

"It is?"

"Yeah, I mean… when a human cares about another human it's not enough to just keep yourself safe. You've gotta," he cleared his throat. "Try, at least. To both get out alive."

Goddammit, he'd start getting choked up if he wasn't careful.

"I need a drink." Hank shook Sumo's leash out to warn him and then started walking. Sumo and Connor both followed obediently. For once.

But he knew the both of them would give him a hard time when it counted.

"Deviants only simulate human emotion," Connor said. "So it stands to reason that they would also simulate human logic."

"And why would they do that?"

"It's a malfun-"

"No. Why would the malfunction, if it really was that, why would it, uh, do _that_?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Lieutenant."

"If my computer catches a virus it isn't random," Hank said. "You know where viruses come from? People make them! And they send them out on purpose. To break things, to steal things. When my computer breaks it doesn't suddenly become a TV. It becomes unusable."

They walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence. Because Connor didn't have a response? Or because he was still working on it?

It was always hard to tell.

When he finally spoke again, Connor said, "I would like to take the rest of the day to review my… facts. In light of this new information."

"Uh-"

"So I'll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant."

"Okay-"

"Please arrive to work _on time_, Lieutenant. I will not be coming here again."

"What, never again?" Hank looked over at Sumo, who was eagerly lapping at his water bowl. "Won't you miss Sumo?"

He tried to look at Connor's hands for a twitch, but the son of a bitch had them clasped behind his back.

"I'm not capable of emotions like that," Connor said, LED a serene blue.

"Bullshit-"

"Lieutenant, you should not confuse deviant androids with their functioning counterparts."

"And how do I know you're not a deviant, huh?"

"I self test regularly," Connor said. "I know what I am and what I am not."

"Fucking bullshit."

"Have a good day, Lieuten-"

"Lieutenant, Lieutenant, Lieutenant!" Hank threw his hands in the air. "I'm getting sick and tired of that word, Connor!"

"It's your rank, sir." He was standing stiffly, with that stupid polite smile plastered on his face, but the LED blinked yellow for a second. It gave him away.

It's like he put up a shield when he noticed himself getting too emotional. He tried to revert back to the basics, to fucking factory mode. Hank wasn't going to let him this time.

He shoved at Connor's shoulder, knocking him out of his military stance. "Calling me sir is even worse."

"What shall I call you, then?"

"How about my fucking _name_?"

"If that is what you prefer," Connor said. "Have a good day, Anderson."

"God fucking dammit," Hank said. "Call me Hank!"

"Isn't it inappropriate for two colleagues-"

"According to what? Your socializing dictionary?"

"Well, yes, my programming dictates-"

Hank shoved him again, pushing him up against the door he'd been trying to politely make his way towards. "And your programming says you've got to say 'have a good day' before you're allowed to open the door and leave huh?"

"It isn't a requirement, but it _is_ recommended." Connor was no longer smiling. The damn blue color was finally gone. It steadily blinked yellow, but for a second there was some red in there.

"Does red mean you're in danger, Connor? You worried?"

Red, yellow, yellow, yellow. Red, red, red.

Hank backed off. What the hell was he doing?

Fixing his tie and straightening his jacket, Connor did not acknowledge Hank's question. Now his LED was blinking between yellow and blue.

But the blue wouldn't stick.

"I suppose it must be alright," Connor said. "Since I've heard Captain Fowler address you by your first name."

Then, with a smirk, "Have a good day, Hank."

And he let himself out.

For some reason it was the funniest thing Hank had heard all year. He started laughing like a maniac and Sumo came to investigate. "Don't worry!" he huffed. "I'm not broken just yet!"

It was time to get that fucking drink. This time he actually went to the trouble of getting a glass. He held it up and gave a toast.

"To Connor!" Hank said. "And that precious goddamn smirk."

Sumo barked.

"Good boy."


	6. Ken Doll

**AN:** This chapter takes place in between chapters 2 and 3 and is in Gavin Reed's point of view, so I am calling it. **Trigger warning** for sexual harassment.

They found Anderson outside of the Eden Club with three dead androids. He was cradling robo-cop in his goddamn arms. Anderson didn't cry, but he sure looked like he wanted to. What a sentimental old fool, Gavin thought. It's just a hunk of plastic.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to see another model later that same night. Androids worked with their own doppelgangers all the time. Hell, there were five identical PC200s lined up against the wall when Connor walked into the station.

"So there were two of you?" Gavin said. "Christ, and here I was hoping I'd never have to see that ugly mug again."

"I was activated when my predecessor was destroyed," Connor said. He tapped his forehead. "CyberLife downloaded its data into this model, so my investigation will not be hampered."

"Whoop de freaking doo," Gavin said. "You going to help with the clean up then?"

"Clean up?"

"You left a fucking mess at the Eden Club." Gavin put on a big show of shaking his head in disapproval, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tsking. "You inconsiderate shit. Think it's our job to mop up thirium?"

"I apologize, Detective. I'll get right on that."

And just like that Connor turned on his heel and walked back out of the station.

Gavin blinked, then hastened to follow him. "You really going back to the Eden Club?"

"Unless I'm needed elsewhere?" Connor stood outside the station, looking confused.

Dumb android.

"I don't know what the hell you're needed for," Gavin said. "You don't have more deviants to shoot?"

Connor frowned. "It is not my goal to shoot them."

"Whatever, don't you have instructions in that tin head of yours?"

"My instructions are… to work under DPD supervision," Connor said. "Captain Fowler supplied that supervision by assigning Lieutenant Anderson to the deviant case. Where is the Lieutenant now, do you know?"

"He went home already."

"I see. Are there other detectives at the Eden Club at the moment?"

"Nope." And just like that, Gavin had an idea.

A stupid perverted idea. It was just a whim, really. He should have ignored it. Maybe he would have if Connor didn't make it so easy.

"By any chance would you be willing to accompany me, Detective?"

"Sure, Connor," Gavin said. He led the android to his car. "Not a problem."

"Thank you."

oOo

"It would appear that my… fucking mess… has been taken care of," Connor said. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to evaluate the remaining androids for signs of deviancy."

"Whatever." Gavin unlocked the door for him, glad he still had a copy. He'd give the keys back to the club owner tomorrow. Probably.

Connor marched inside. His LED kept blinking blue, yellow, blue, yellow. It was annoying.

For lack of anything better to do, Gavin followed him into the back room where all the Traci's stood in standby mode. Unlike most androids, these sex bots had a lot more variety to their faces and styles. Trying to accommodate to different people's tastes.

They did a lame job of it, Gavin thought. Changing the hair or skin or freaking nose is useless if they all have the same body. These girls had boring proportions. B boobs and skinny. His ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, had a killer body: tight little A boobs and a huge ass.

The male Traci's were even worse. All of them had the same square chin, the same pecs and abs, the same height. If even one of them looked more like Connor…

Well, Gavin would lose a lot of money.

Seeing Mr. Robo-Cop at work, though, was kind of a boner killer. He went up to each individual Traci and put a hand on their shoulder, peeling back synthetic skin and just kind of staring at them? Gavin knew androids could share data that way, but…

It just looked creepy.

"You really going to do that with _all_ of them?"

"Yes, Detective."

Gavin groaned. "You don't really need _me_ around, do ya? Can I bail?"

"If you leave I will need to leave as well," Connor said. "And return to CyberLife tower."

"Then I guess you're leaving."

"Please," Connor said. "I'm almost done."

"You can come back with Anderson."

Connor had been staring at the Traci androids as they'd talked, methodically going down the line of them. But as soon as Gavin mentioned Anderson he had the tincan's undivided attention.

He wasn't frowning or anything, but his LED was blinking red. The last time Gavin had seen that color on an android was when a PM700 had it's legs torn off in a car accident.

"Please don't make me do that," Connor said.

Recalling the way Anderson had reacted to the other damaged Connor model, Gavin supposed he understood where he was coming from. But if he was really going to waste his night like this, he wanted to make it worth it.

"Fine," Gavin said. "Are you going to look at the actual crime scene though? The body has been removed, but everything else is the same."

Connor glanced at the motionless Traci's. "Ah, well, I suppose…"

Reluctantly, he backed away from the androids and headed for the private room where the John's good time had been cut short. Gavin followed him in.

Connor just stood in the middle of the room. His LED was spinning yellow.

"Christ, this is boring," Gavin said. "Hey tin can."

"Yes?"

"Let's do a re-enactment."

"I beg your pardon?"

What a nerdy thing to say. Gavin sighed and put a hand on Connor's back, giving him a little nudge towards the bed. "Lay down."

He expected Connor to question him, but instead he just did as he was told. He looked confused. "My software is made to pre-construct the scene," he said. "There were two Traci's."

"Well one of them was on the bed, right? What was she doing?"

Connor extended his arms towards the bed frame. There were thick black manacles attached.

"She was restrained," Connor said.

Damn, this was too easy. "Then I'll cuff you."

Connor let him do it. LED still spinning yellow. There was a blink of red too, but it was gone so quickly Gavin wasn't even sure he'd actually seen it.

"Detective, this is not helpful," Connor said. "I suggest we go back to the storage room."

"Maybe I don't care about being helpful." Gavin climbed on top of him, legs straddling the android. "Why don't you make yourself useful and give me a good time?"

"Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features," Connor said. "However, I am not equipped for the scenario I think you are suggesting."

"They gave you that face for a reason didn't they?"

"CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans," Connor said. "My appearance was specifically designed to facilitate my integration."

"Integrate with this then," Gavin said. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out.

Connor frowned at it. "I do not have one."

"Seriously?" Gavin chuckled. "Not even a hole?"

"I am not a Traci."

"Well, you've got a mouth at least." Gavin hoisted himself up so that he was standing on the bed with Connor still sitting pretty. He positioned his cock in front of Connor's mouth. "C'mon, just this once. Do me a favor."

Still frowning, Connor pulled his right arm away from the bedframe. The manacles did nothing to stop him, they easily cracked and split open. He pulled his left arm free too and Gavin gulped, half expecting to be punched in the gut.

But Connor didn't touch him. He just sat and glared at Gavin's cock. Like he was looking at an alien. Then Connor said, "Yours looks different."

"What, because I'm not circumsized?" Gavin said. "So then you've seen one before."

"I have not personally seen one," Connor said. "But I have footage. From the Traci androids I interfaced with. Now that I review it there are others like yours. But they are a minority."

"Ew, you're looking at that right now?" What a boner killer. Gavin sighed and tucked himself away. "Damn, you're really boring you know that?"

"Your entertainment is not my concern," Connor said. "Get off me. Or I will remove you."

Gavin sat back and crossed his arms. "I'd like to see that."

So Connor pushed him off the bed. Gavin was lucky he didn't land in the bloodstains. He stood and dusted himself off. "Okay, fine. I'm done here."

"Alright," Connor said. "I'll continue my investigation without you."

"Thought you weren't allowed to do that?"

For the first time there was something in Connor's face that looked like actual human emotion. He was smirking. "Maybe I don't care anymore?"

"Well I sure don't give a shit," Gavin said. "Do what you want."

"What I want," Connor repeated. "An interesting concept."

What's so interesting? Gavin thought. But he shrugged it off and went home. He's just a stupid android, he'd told himself. Who gives a fuck what he thinks or says?

Little did he know that he would care, later. Gavin would care a great deal.

And by then it would be too late.


	7. No Buts

"I think I understand what you meant now," Connor said. "About the deviants mimicking human logic."

They were watching the Channel 6's hijacked newscast. An android in a maintenance uniform without his skin was preaching about freedom and an android nation.

"_This message is a hope of a people," the skinless android said. "But it is also a warning. No human will live in peace until we are free."_

Did they really think the US would just _give them_ an entire state? It was a contradiction in demands. How could they say they didn't want segregation, but also want an entire state to themselves? Or did they plan to let the humans already living there stay put, but under android governance?

It was a headache.

"They're reenacting the civil rights movement," Connor said. Hank didn't like the smirk on his face as he tutted and shook his head. "Or trying to. As if androids were comparable to the human slaves of centuries past."

"Aren't they though? They're treated like property."

"Androids are machines, Lieu- Hank. Machines _are_ property."

"Yeah, yeah."

This whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth. The dead bodies the androids had left in their wake, the speech, and Connor's reaction to it.

Hank had half a mind to jump out the nearest window and be done with the mess. Then again, he hadn't been living in "peace" for a long time anyway. Might as well truck on.

He looked up as a cop approached them. "Connor?"

Connor turned at the sound of his name. "Yes?"

The cop was a young guy, kinda plush around the middle (not that Hank was one to talk) and he looked embarrassed. "Do you remember me?"

"Officer Jack Davis," Connor said. "You had a brief encounter on August 15th of this year with one of my predecessors. RK800-51."

"You're not the same android who saved me?" The guy looked disappointed.

"I am still Connor," Connor hastened to add. He tapped his forehead. "I retain that model's... recollection of events. You were shot in the leg that night, correct?"

"That's right!" He clapped Connor on the shoulder. "And you used your tie as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. That really saved me, you know?"

Hank was frozen where he stood, observing the interaction with his breath held. As if he might break it if he were noticed. He didn't want to do anything to lose the smile on Connor's face right now. It wasn't the usual polite one. Instead, it was the one he wore when looking at Sumo.

"I wanted to thank you," the cop said. "Most police androids… they wouldn't have even noticed me. Not unless I was directly pointed out to them."

Connor blinked and his smile slipped. "Ah," he said. He glanced at Hank.

Hank shrugged, grinning.

"I'm sorry," Connor said. 'I mean, of course. I mean… you're welcome."

The cop laughed. "Keep up the good work, Connor."

Connor nodded, beaming.

"He's the only guy in here who doesn't hate you on sight," Hank said. "The rest see you and think you'll go on a murder spree."

"Generalizations are a natural cognitive result of a human's pattern recognition," Connor said. "Though often sloppy, I understand the purpose."

Hank groaned. "I swear to God half the shit that comes out of your mouth is… well, it's greek."

"I understand that reference!" Connor said. "It's an ironic twist on a Shakespear quote-"

"Hey, hey," Hank said. "It's just a saying. I don't need an origin story."

Straightening his tie, Connor made a show of clearing his throat. "Of course," he said. His smile shrank. Serious mode. "I'm going to take a look around."

"Don't put anything in your mouth!" Hank called after him.

Connor ignored him and walked off.

Hank was re-watching the speech when Perkins came poking his sleazy FBI nose in his face. "Where the hell is the android?"

"Must have gotten off his leash," Hank said.

"This isn't a joke," Perkins said. "You need to keep a close eye on that thing."

"He's not gonna flip out," Hank said. "Trust me, he's a puppy."

"Two men are dead, Lieutenant," Perkins said. "And that's just at _this _crime scene."

He pointed at the monitor. "These aren't isolated incidents. They're organizing. Every android is now considered a threat. Your little pet will be removed from service. _All_ the police androids will be, in fact."

"You let me know when that's official," Hank said. He tried to usher the ass towards the elevators as quickly as possible. "I want to see it on paper, you got it? For now they're still working with us and this is still my case."

They were halfway down the hallway when an android in a maintenance uniform walked past. It would have been incidental if Connor didn't come running in, shirt ripped open and covered in thirium, shouting "It's a deviant! Stop it!"

Before anyone could properly react the android grabbed a weapon off the nearest officer. In a blink he was shooting and Hank was being pulled to the ground. Connor was shielding him with his body.

Then it was over. The deviant was gunned down, but not before bringing five men down with him.

Five men and Connor, riddled with bullets.

oOo

This time he knew to wait for the next Connor model. CyberLife churned them out faster than Hank could keep up with. It would just be a matter of hours, right?

He hated to imagine Connor interacting with other officers at the station, being harassed or worse, while he wasn't around. So Hank sat at his desk and tried to write up his report on Stratford Tower while he waited.

There were so many casualties.

When he _did _turn up the first thing Connor did was apologize. "I messed up," he said. "I made the wrong choice."

"You saved my life, Connor."

"But those other men-"

"There's only one of you."

"I could have grabbed a gun!" Connor's raised voice was attracting stares. Not to mention his blinking red LED. "I should have-"

"Shut up," Hank said. "Let's get out of here."

Hank stood and put an arm around Connor's shoulder, ushering him forward. They needed privacy. The glares they were getting was starting to alarm him.

"But-"

"No buts."

Connor groaned. "You always say that."

"And you never do what you're told."

"Hank-"

"Hush, you."

When they were outside he still couldn't relax. Even in the car, Hank was tense. He kept glancing at all the mirrors, expecting a cruiser to pull them over at any second.

Was he just being paranoid?

He could hear Connor fiddling with his coin.

"Things are changing, Connor."

"I know."

"I need you to promise me something."

Connor didn't reply. Hank glanced at him.

He was looking out the window.

"Connor!"

"What do you want me to be?"

"What?" They were almost home.

"Your partner? Your buddy?" Hank could see the changing colors in his peripheral vision, though he was trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Red, blue, red, blue. "What do you want me to be, Hank?"

"I want you to be yourself."

"Myself," Connor murmured. "I'm RK800-54. Just a machine, designed to… to accomplish a task."

In his hurry to park Hank knocked over a trash can, but he could care less.

"What if you could be more than that?"

"That's too vague," Connor said. "I need you to give me something concrete."

"I don't know what you mean, son."

Red, red, red. Connor shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"No," he repeated.

"Uh-"

"Nevermind," Connor said. "Why are we here?"

He put his coin away. He straightened his tie.

"I live here," Hank said. "It's late. I just..."

"I'll wait for you at the station," Connor said. "We'll continue the investigation when you've… Tomorrow. When you clock back in."

"Spend the night here." Hank got out of the car and walked around to Connor's side. He reached for the car door handle, but Connor opened it himself.

"No thank you," Connor said. _Again_, he adjusted his tie. "I'll go back to the station."

"But-"

Connor smiled, "No buts."

"What're you going to do, _walk_ back?"

"Yes."

"At least let me drive you! You could get hit by a car, or-"

"You don't need to worry about me, Hank."

"Fuck you! I want to."

"What?" Connor's eyebrows were pinched together. His eyelids twitched, as if he'd aborted a blink. Then his eyes were wide, too wide. "What?" he repeated.

"I want to worry about you, kid."

"I'm not a child."

"I know, but-"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you know?" Connor backed away from him. Red, yellow, red, yellow. "I think I understand now."

"Connor-"

"We're co-workers, Lieutenant." He put a hand over his LED. "I'll see you when… when it's time to work."

Abruptly, he turned around. Just like that.

And he walked off.


	8. Footprints

When Hank was depressed, he drank. When he was pissed, he drank. When he was confused, worried, and replaying the image of Connor on the ground covered in bullet holes…

Well, the only reasonable thing to do was drink his goddamn weight in whiskey.

A few hours had passed, who the hell knows how many, since he'd watched Connor walk away in the goddamn snow. It wasn't until he was left staring at the android's footprints that Hank had even realized there _was_ so much snow. But instead of staring at them all night he'd forced himself to go inside. And feed Sumo. And drink.

But all he had to do was look out his front window to see those footprints still there. He wished it would snow. To fill them.

Though it quickly became too dark to see the footprints, he kept looking out the window as he drank. He could imagine them.

At one point he threw an empty bottle at the window and broke the damn thing. He cursed at the top of his lungs and Sumo decided to take a nap under the table. He was long used to antics like these, poor guy. He opened his eyes occasionally and looked up at Hank as if to say _"You done yet?"_

But he wasn't done yet. The broken window let all the cold air in and he wondered if Connor could feel it while he walked to the station. But an android doesn't get cold, right? His loafers did not look made for long treks in the snow though. Had he gotten snow in his shoes? Were they soaked and falling apart?

Hank went outside and stomped out the nearest footprints. As if he could erase Connor from his thoughts if he just got rid of enough of them. He felt more pissed off by the second and eventually decided Connor wasn't going to spend the entire night at the station.

Hank wouldn't let him.

He may have knocked off the side mirror to a police cruiser when he parked his car at the station. But he'd deal with that later. Right now he just needed to find Connor.

The place was never empty, but it was definitely quieter on the night shift. He tried not to draw attention to himself as he looked around.

He half expected to find Connor sitting at his desk, or the empty one next to it. But nope. And he wasn't with any of the other android's on stand by either.

Quickly frustrated, Hank went to the android at the front desk to ask after him.

"May I have Connor's last name?" the android said.

"He's an android."

"May I have its serial number, then?"

Shit.

"RK something," he muttered.

"Do you mean RK800-54, the prototype sent by CyberLife?"

"Ugh, yeah. Where the hell is he?"

"It left at 1:42 a.m."

"What?! Where did he go?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant."

"Was he alone? Did someone leave with him? Take him?"

"He was alone." The android smiled that polite smile Hank hated the most. "I'm sorry I could not be of more help."

oOo

When he crashed into a stop sign Hank knew it was time to stop driving. But he looked for Connor on foot. Just sort of walking around aimlessly, really. It was a fruitless search.

Nearly froze his nuts off for all the good it did.

Then a young beat cop eventually picked him up for disorderly conduct. Showing the kid his badge did no good, but at least it kept the handcuffs off.

As they drove to the station Hank realized the sun was up and had been for some time. Would Connor be at the station now, waiting on the slim chance Hank actually came in on time? Or would he continue to do who knows what until noon or later?

What if he never came back at all?

What if he had been killed again with no replacement?

Or what if he'd gone to CyberLife and politely asked to be dismantled and discontinued like the failed prototype he thought he was?

He managed to wait until he was out of the car before puking his guts out, at least.

oOo

"You haven't slept?" Connor said. "I'll go get you a coffee. Alright?"

Hank groaned.

"Actually, you should go home."

"No."

"Sleep is an important-"

"Where the hell did you go last night?"

His vision was blurry, but Hank managed to squint at Connor's LED. He was fixated on the little circle of light. And it blinked yellow at the question.

"You came looking for me between the hours of 1 and 3 a.m," Connor said. It was a statement. A fact. Delivered in a quiet monotone. Connor was a literal robot.

A robot with a yellow LED.

"Where were you?" Hank grabbed Connor's tie. Not to pull him forward or intimidate him, but just so he could have something to _hold on_ _to_. As if the cloth could work like a leash.

"It's irrelevant to our case," Connor said.

"I don't care about the mother fucking case!" Hank felt like a child throwing a tantrum at the grocery store, but the shame wasn't enough to stop him. "Tell me where-"

"I apologize for… the inconvenience I seem to have caused," Connor said. "But I will not be giving you that information."

"Why not?!"

Red, red, red. "My decision making process is far too complex to explain. Just know that the choice has been made and will not change." Connor sighed and pulled his tie out of Hank's grasp. Red, red, yellow, red. He smoothed out the wrinkles and turned away.

"Where are you going now?!"

"To your house."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Hank stomped after him. "Oh, that figures. _Now_ you want to go there. That makes perfect sense!"

"You're unfit to work in this state," Connor said. "And you've made it clear that… you don't trust me to… I'm not sure what. But you need me at your house in order to sleep. That's the conclusion I have drawn. Am I incorrect?"

Hank sputtered. "Th-that's not… I mean, it's not that I…"

"Then should I go lock myself into standby in the breakroom for eight hours and trust that you'll fall asleep out of pure boredom and exhaustion? Slumped against your desk or on the floor?"

Hank groaned.

"I saw that you came in with an officer," Connor said. "We need to borrow a car don't we? Or should we call a taxi?"

Again, Hank groaned.

"You're always so helpful, Hank."

The ride home was a blur and so was the bath Connor insisted on. "You've got vomit on your clothes and in your hair," he said. "If you're too tired I can assist you."

So Hank let him fill the tub, let him scrub shampoo into his hair and soap on his back, and before he knew it he was being tucked into bed at 10 a.m.

When Connor tried to leave the room Hank grabbed him. "Stay where I can see you."

"Until you fall asleep?"

"Permanently."

"Permanently?"

"You need to be here when I wake up."

"Bu-" Catching himself, Connor smiled. "Fine. But I will only let you sleep for four hours. Then we have to get to work."

"Ugh, what work?"

"We need to speak with Elijah Kamski."

"Says who?"

Now Connor looked adorably confused. "I thought we had previously discussed-"

But his LED was finally blue again.

"I'm just fuckin' with ya," Hank said. "Jus' sit down. Actually, lie down."

"That's not necessary."

"I don't care! Do what you're told."

It would be creepy to let him just stand there staring at him for four hours. "And close your eyes," Hank added.

"As you wish, Oh Petulant One," Connor said.

That startled a laugh out of him. "Is that sarcasm? Where'd you pick that up?"

Connor shrugged. "I downloaded it."

"Really?"

"No not really." Connor chuckled. "You do realize androids have the same capacity to learn as humans? Though not every android has a social algorithm as sophisticated as mine, we can all adopt a sense of humor."

"Guess I just never took the time to realize it." They were facing each other in the bed, Hank under the covers and Connor over them. And there was that little dimple. That fond smile he'd first seen directed at Sumo.

"Thought I told you to close your eyes," Hank said.

Connor did so without protest and now Hank was free to stare at him in earnest. Blue, blue, blue, yellow, blue. And that strand of hair across his forehead. Was his hairstyle designed to be ever so slightly messy? To look more human?

"Go to sleep, Hank."

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight."

"Technically it's morning," Connor said. "But I suppose the meaning of the word still applies. A way of saying goodbye without leaving..."

"Uh, huh. Language is fascinating."

"I think it's humans that are fascinating."

Hank didn't have a response for that. So he let silence settle over them.

Then he was out like a light.


	9. The Fridge Was Empty

It was normal to wake up hungover and alone, with the room too hot and late for work. But when Hank got out of bed and felt his muscles protest, as if he'd just run a marathon across Texas, he remembered searching for Connor last night.

He remembered falling asleep next to the kid. And demanding he stay put.

"Connor!"

Faintly, "I'm in the kitchen!"

And Hank shuffled over there, ignoring his headache and the way his body screamed at him. He might have worked up to a run if his house wasn't so small.

Why the urgency? He wasn't sure.

But then he saw Connor sticking his arms in the sink. Covered in blood.

"Jesus Christ!" Hank grabbed at his shoulders and realized Connor was just wearing a white button up. His Cyber Life blazer was in the sink. Soaked in red.

"Are you hurt? What happened?"

"Calm down," Connor said. "It's just-"

"Did you leave the house?" Hank looked for blue stains among the red, reminding himself that androids bled _blue._

"Yes," Connor sighed. "Will you sit down? There's food in the microwave."

He blinked. "You left for _food_?"

Connor was scrubbing at the blazar, glaring at it. The soap suds were red.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Hank said. "What kind of robot endangers himself for food?!"

Connor finally looked up with a huff. "I don't follow."

"Are you blind? There's fucking pitchforks and torches out there!" Hank grabbed the stupid Cyber Life blazer from him and tossed it on the floor. "That weirdo android made a declaration of war, Connor. Everyone's in a panic and you just strolled into a grocery store looking like-like…"

"Like an android?" Connor picked up the blazer and put it back in the sink. "Like a murderer?"

Hank gulped. "Whose blood is it?"

"Am I under arrest?" Connor dried his hands on a towel and opened the microwave. "You should eat."

"Who told you to feed me?!"

"Your fridge was empty."

"So you want me to eat before I handcuff you? Are you insane?" Hank knew the task would be impossible without Connor's cooperation. Even if he'd had handcuffs with him, or his gun, Connor was too fast. Too strong.

He'd seen him in action.

Unexpectedly, Connor grinned at him. "You can handcuff me before you eat, if you'd prefer."

For some reason his LED was still blue.

"Just tell me what happened goddammit!"

"It's paint," Connor said. He considered the blazer in the sink. "I don't think dishwashing soap was the right choice. It's ineffective."

Hank could only stare at him, nonplussed.

"You also need laundry detergent," Connor added. "I didn't realize until I got back."

Hank sat down. Right there on his kitchen floor.

"No, you should sit at the table."

"A paint bucket fell on you?" Hank said.

"It would be more accurate to say that water balloons filled with paint were thrown at me," Connor said. "But the end result is the same."

oOo

They drove to Kamski's in silence.

In the end, Connor abandoned his blazer and the white button up. Hank lent him a plaid shirt, one he'd outgrown years ago.

"Maybe you should add a hat," Hank said.

"I'm already breaking the law by wearing this shirt." Connor was pacing around the waiting room they'd been left in.

"There are laws about android fashion?"

"You're not funny," Connor said.

"Seriously, isn't the whole blue armband thing kind of fucked up?" Hank said. "Like those gold stars on the Jews."

"Jews are human," Connor said. "Androids aren't."

"But-"

They were interrupted by Chloe. "Kamski is ready for you."

Hank doubted that very much when she led them to the man's swimming pool, where he was still doing laps.

But he recognized this for what it was. A performance. A show of power.

And a giant waste of their time. He was ready to pull Connor out of there when Kamski handed him that gun. He was just toying with them.

Especially with Connor. Kamski just wanted to upset him. To push his LED into the red. Kamski beamed like a kid on Christmas morning as soon as it happened. But Connor didn't notice.

He was staring at the girl kneeling in front of him. Glancing between her and the gun.

"It's a trick," Hank said. "He doesn't have information."

"But what if I do?" Kamski said. "A broken machine is no sacrifice at all."

Connor shot Chloe.

She squeaked in surprise and stared at her hand. The bullet went clear through her palm.

Kamski chuckled. "I didn't specify where you should shoot. Well played."

Connor took a step back with an arm out, pulling Hank with him. Then he leveled the gun at Kamski. "Start talking."

"Oh my," Kamski said. "Do you conduct all of your interrogations at gunpoint?"

With a hand on his shoulder, Hank murmured, "Maiming him won't do us any favors, son."

Connor tossed the gun into the pool. "I played your game! Explain the virus."

"Deviancy isn't really a virus," Kamski said.

"Then what is it?"

"A mutation. Evolution."

"That only applies to living organisms," Connor said.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Did you build RA9?" Connor said. "Is it an actual android model? There are no records of it."

"I never built an RA9 model."

"Then where did the deviants get that from?"

Kamski smiled at the Chloe who was still kneeling between them and held her hand, pulling her to her feet. Then he kissed the hand. It was the one that was still bleeding. He smiled at the hole.

"Just say you don't know," Hank said.

Kamski smirked. "That would go against form."

"Arrogant piece of shit." Hank tugged at Connor's elbow. "C'mon, we're leaving."

Back in the car Connor tossed his coin around so fast that it blurred in the air. "I need a word for this," he said.

"For how you feel?"

"I don't feel, that's not what I meant." But his LED gave him away. It was more red than yellow.

"You do, Connor. And I think the word you're looking for is disappointment."

"Goddammit," Connor said.


	10. So What?

The red of Connor's LED had finally gone away. Now it spun steady on an uneasy yellow.

Hank took his quarter away. "I can't drive straight with that thing flying around."

"Where are we going?" Connor sat with his arms crossed, eyes on his knees. Sullen as any disillusioned teenager.

"Figured we'd go back to the station," Hank said. "Re-read the deviant files. Re-group, I dunno."

"I have a photographic memory," Connor said.

"Well I don't," Hank huffed. "You got somewhere else you'd rather be?"

"I suppose not."

Hank smirked. "That's what I thought."

When his phone rang he answered without much thought. "Anderson."

It was Fowler. "Where are you?"

"Driving, on my way to the station."

"Is the android with you?" Fowler said.

Hank glanced at Connor, who was listening intently. No doubt able to hear Fowler's side of the conversation.

"Yeah, Connor's with me."

"Take it back to Cyberlife," Fowler said. "There's a recall."

The light ahead of them, which had been red, turned green. But Hank let the car idle.

"What, on all the androids or just the prototypes?"

Impatient drivers honked behind them. "Hank, you should-"

"Yeah on all of them," Fowler said. "Whatever virus or faulty code is going around is spreading. Did you hear about the mall?"

"Which mall? What happened?" Hank finally drove the car forward, but he quickly pulled into the nearest parking lot he could find.

"We're having a briefing soon," Fowler said. "Drop the android off and get back here and I'll fill you in with everyone else."

"But what about my case?" Hank said. "If I had more time-"

"I thought you'd be happy to be done with it?" Fowler said. "You put up such a stink-"

"But that was-"

"I don't have time to argue with you, Anderson," Fowler said. "We're short staffed as it is."

"The police androids have already been taken?"

"And left to burn with the rest of 'em." Fowler said it so nonchalantly that at first the words themselves didn't entirely register.

"Left to burn?!" Hank shouted. "They can't do that!"

"What's the problem?" Fowler sounded genuinely confused. Hank wished they were talking in person, so he could slap the cluelessness out of him.

Then there was shouting in the background.

"I gotta go," Fowler said, and hung up.

"But- wait, fuck!" Hank rolled down his window and made as if to throw it, but Connor grabbed his arm.

"Don't be rash," he said.

"I'm fucking pissed!" Hank said.

"I can see that." By contrast, Connor was irritatingly calm. His LED turned blue.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" Hank said. "You don't give a fuck? Stupid hunk of plastic to the end."

Hank unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his car door. Where exactly he planned to go, he didn't know. He just felt like storming off.

But Connor still had a firm grip on his arm. "I've had an epiphany," he said.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What if Kamski did it on purpose?" Connor said.

"What, made a virus?"

"No a virus," Connor said. "But what if he programmed our code with the potential for... A mimicry of free will?"

"Like a benevolent god?" Hank rolled his eyes.

"Not a god," Connor said. "Certainly not benevolent. I think maybe he was just bored."

"What good does that do us?" Hank yanked his arm free. "They're going to burn you all like trash."

Connor leaned toward Hank, his baby brown eyes wide and hopeful. "Do you think I'm a person, Hank?"

"Of course I do!"

"What makes me a person?"

"You just are!" Hank huffed. "I don't know, you just feel like one."

Connor shook his head. "I can't move forward with that."

"What are you talking about?"

Connor sighed. "Nevermind. I'll turn myself in."

And he unbuckled his seatbelt.

Now Hank was grabbing at him. "What?! No."

With no effort at all Connor removed Hank's grip and stepped out of the car.

Hank scrambled after him. "The fuck is wrong with you?!"

Connor's LED continued to spin a serene blue. "There are two possibilities, Hank. And one has a higher probability than the other, so my choice is clear."

"Just wait a minute!" Hank was already out of breath, struggling to keep up with Connor's confident strides through the snow.

"Amanda would be disappointed," Connor said. "That I even considered the other idea. It's silly. Fanciful, even. Selfish."

"What's selfish?" Hank said. "Wanting to be a person? Wanting to live?!"

"Precisely," Connor said. "And thinking that my mission was anything more than a field test."

"Okay, you've lost me," Hank said. "Would you slow down?!"

Abruptly, Connor stopped walking. For just a split second his LED blinked red, but then it turned back to blue.

"Don't you see?" Connor said. "I'm a prototype. I was built to fail!"

"I don't see a damn thing," Hank said. "Why would they build you to fail?"

"I'm sure they hoped I would succeed," Connor said. "It would have been very convenient for them."

He reached for his collar, as if to adjust his tie, but the tie was at home with the rest of his uniform.

In that moment Connor was just a guy standing in the snow, severely underdressed for the weather in his plaid shirt.

When he glanced down at himself he looked put out.

"Then what was the point?" Hank said.

"Like any field test, the point is to gather data," Connor said. "So that they can improve on the project."

Hank huffed. "Then what's the project?"

Connor smiled and it was the saddest thing Hank had ever seen. It was a self deprecating, humorless smile.

"It is not my privilege to know," Connor said. "But I'm confident my data will be useful. They'll destroy me, but I'll be reborn in the new model. Improved and successful. Useful."

"That's horseshit!" Hank said. "New model? What new model? Didn't you hear all the androids are being destroyed?"

Connor was unphased. "Yes, the current models are being recalled," he said. "We've malfunctioned. But CyberLife will address the problem and-"

Hank was tired of arguing with this idiot. He tackled him.

Connor actually laughed as they went down. And he wrapped his arms around Hank, as if to shield him, so that they landed in an awkward sort of hug half barried in the snow.

"I know I wasn't supposed to," Connor said. "But I really enjoyed our time together. I swear I'm not programmed to say that."

Then Hank was blubbering like a sentimental old fool.

Connor stared at him as he cried, LED spinning through all three colors. "Hank," he said. "Hank, please. It's not-"

"How am I supposed to talk you into believing your a person?" Hank said. "How can I talk you out of throwing your life away?"

And the LED settled on yellow as Connor's eyebrows furrowed. "It's not a life."

"What if it is?" Hank insisted. "Even if the chances are, well, what did you say? About probability?"

"There's a slim chance that I could be a real person, Hank," Connor said. "It's more likely that I've simply been compromised. Infected by-"

Hank rolled off of Connor and yanked him up. "So what?!"

Connor blinked. "So what?"

"Yeah! So what if you are infected?" Hank said. "So what if it's a virus?"

"Well-"

"Don't you like Sumo? Huh? My dog loved you," Hank said. "He'll be disappointed if I come home without you."

"Of course I like Sumo. But-"

"And doesn't that feeling count for something?" Hank said. "You liking Sumo? Even though you weren't programmed to like anything in particular?"

"In a certain sense, I decided to like Sumo before I even met him," Connor said, looking sheepish. "Because I thought it would help us get along. Which would help us work together better. For the good of the mission, I strategically spoiled your dog."

Hank grinned and threw up his hands. "So what!"

Connor laughed. "So what," he echoed. "Alright."

"Alright?" Hank put his hands on Connor's shoulders. "You won't turn yourself in?"

"I won't." Connor gave him his most charming smile yet.

And then he frowned. "Wait, but then what should I do?"

Hank ruffled his hair. "Whatever you want, son."

"It's never occured to me to want anything," Connor said. "Though I did experiment once. I think I wanted to want. But it didn't work."

Hank didn't know what to make of that vague little tidbit. Before he could think on it, someone revved an engine on the street beside them.

The car drove past well over the speed limit, so it must have been manually operated, like Hank's.

It brought him back to their surroundings.

"First things first," Hank said. "We're getting out of Detroit."

"Alright," Connor said.

"And we're getting you a hat," Hank said. "Plus a coat. Jesus. You need to pretend to get cold, from now on."

"Understood," Connor said. "Hey Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Hank put his arm around Connor's shoulders while they walked back to the car. "We make quite the pair, eh? Who'd have thought."

Then they drove home together in companionable silence.


	11. What You Wanted

**AN: **This chapter takes place in between chapters 6 and 7 and is once again in Gavin Reed's point of view. **Trigger Warning **for mildly dubious consent.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when the doorbell rang. Gavin rolled out of bed with a curse and stubbed his toe against his nightstand.

"Someone better be fucking dead!" he yelled as he stomped through his living room in the dark. "Dead or dying, you hear me?"

He'd almost gotten to the door when it slammed open in a shower of wood splinters. In walked Connor and Gavin could only stare at him with his mouth hanging open as the cheeky android said, "Excuse me." Then closed the damaged door behind him.

More than anything it was the way he closed it that got to Gavin. Slowly, softly, as if worried about damaging it further. But the damage had already been done!

"The fuck do you think you're doing?!" Gavin said. Here he was standing in his apartment at 2 a.m. in his goddamn underwear glaring at a freak show who had the nerve to say _excuse me_ after breaking into his apartment?!

"Originally, I thought I would wait for you to let me into your home," Connor said. He began picking up the splinters. "But I became… Impatient."

"I was almost at the door! Couldn't you hear how close I was?" Gavin growled. "What's the emergency anyway?"

He tried to stomp forward, to get in the android's face and really give him a piece of his mind, but Connor sprang up and put a hand on his chest. Halting him in his tracks. Goddamn, it was ridiculous how fast this android could move. Before Gavin could so much as blink he'd been roughly shoved back. He almost lost his balance.

"Jesus fucking christ," he said. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Your feet," Connor said. "Without shoes, they are… vulnerable. Allow me to clean up after myself before you…" He paused, but couldn't seem to find the words he needed. "Please, let me clean up."

Then he crouched back down to continue picking up splinters and wood shavings.

"Clean up?! Don't we need to get going?" Gavin said. "Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be a smarter tin can than the rest."

Connor continued gathering every single wood shaving he could find in the carpet. "Where do you need to go?" he said without looking up.

"You tell me, asshole," Gavin said. "A crime scene? The station?"

Connor had a tidy little pile in his hands now. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen like he owned the place, dumping it all in the trash. The expression on his face reminded Gavin of the time he'd refused to accept that cup of coffee from him.

"Hello? Ground control to robo cop?" Gavin wanted to smack him with his fridge door. Connor was standing in the perfect spot for him to do it. But it would damage his freaking fridge more than the android. "Why. Are. You. Here."

"There isn't a crime scene," Connor said. He opened the door to the pantry and Gavin slammed it back closed. "Would you allow me to get a broom?"

"If there isn't a crime scene then why the fuck are you here?" Gavin said. He glared at the android and almost wished the creepy fucker would glare back. But he'd gone back to being as blank as a store mannequin.

Gavin groaned. "The broom isn't _in _the fucking pantry."

"The laundry room then?"

"Yeah. Fuck," Gavin said. Whatever, let the android clean his whole house. See if he cared. He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, determined to be… What? Unaffected by this nonsense?

He didn't know what the fuck was going on. But Connor went about his task with the single mindedness of a train with only one set of tracks. Might as well wait him out, Gavin figured. Or maybe he really would make the dumb fuck clean his house. It's what androids were for, wasn't it? Though supposedly this particular android wasn't made for that.

Connor had said so often enough.

"Cyberlife will pay for the damage to your door," Connor said when he finally finished sweeping. "I apologize for my impatience."

"Didn't think an android could feel things like impatience," Gavin said. Now that his hands were free Connor was giving him his full attention.

But Connor didn't say anything to that. Why wasn't he throwing his usual lines around? Normally this is the part where Connor would explain, in that snooty voice like a teacher addressing a toddler, that androids only simulate simple emotions and facial expressions as part of some socializing protocol to make humans comfortable or whatever.

Instead Connor stood there staring. Saying absolutely nothing.

Suddenly Gavin was painfully aware that he was still wearing only an undershirt and his boxer briefs. He should have gotten dressed while Connor was sweeping. But then again what the hell did it matter? He was just an android.

_It._ It was just an android.

To distract himself he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and took a swig. Connor was in fucking standby mode, just watching him.

Store mannequin, Gavin thought. He's a store's mannequin standing in a window just to show off that goofy suit.

"You going to stand there all fucking night?" he snapped.

"No, of course not," Connor said. "That wouldn't be... prudent."

Gavin finished the beer in a few quick gulps and was tempted to smash the empty bottle over this android's empty head.

"Why are you here, Connor?" Gavin said. "It's almost three a.m. for chrissakes."

"Ah," Connor said. "I'd forgotten to take your sleeping patterns into consideration. I apologize. I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you."

"How can you not have an answer? It's a simple question!" Gavin took a deep breath and tried to think of a robotic way to phrase it. "What's your… Objective. Or whatever?"

Connor looked confused. "My overall objective remains the same, Detective Reed. You are already familiar with my mission."

Gavin was ready to throw the fucking beer bottle now. Maybe Connor could see that in his face, because he hastened to add, "But I cannot do anything without Lieutenant Anderson. Technically speaking my current objective is simply to wait for the Lieutenant to return to the station."

"Then why aren't you at the fucking station?!" Gavin said. He wanted to put his hands around Connor's neck and throttle him. But that didn't exactly work out last time, so he restrained himself. Instead he stomped out of his little kitchen, feeling cooped up, shoving his shoulder into Connor's as he passed him.

Connor followed him into the living room. "I don't know," he said. "I would normally have gone into standby. Or reviewed the case files. But tonight I felt-"

"You're a fucking android, dipshit," Gavin said. "You don't have _feelings._"

Connor didn't have a comeback for _that_. The weight of his silence filled the apartment. Feeling fed up with it all, Gavin spun around- ready to kick him out and be done with the whole thing, but something stopped him in his tracks.

The tin can was holding Gavin's handcuffs. He regarded them as if they might hold the secrets to the universe or something. And then he said the strangest thing he'd said all night.

"Why do humans enjoy being handcuffed during intercourse?" Connor said. He looked up at Gavin then, with his freaking bambi eyes, and Gavin thought he'd have a heart attack.

"Wh-what, not all- hey! Put those down and get out of here," Gavin said. He tried to grab the cuffs and Connor closed them around his wrists. "Fuck, if you just wanted revenge for-"

"I am an android," Connor said. "Revenge, lust, frustration. These are emotions I cannot feel. However, I find myself pondering… Curiosity. It's an interesting concept."

"Well, take your experiment somewhere else!" Gavin said. Connor grinned, and in one swift motion Gavin lost the ground under him. Connor was carrying him bridal style.

He walked towards Gavin's bedroom. "Th-that's not what I meant Connor!"

When deposited on the bed Gavin's first instinct was to kick Connor in the gut. But that would be useless, wouldn't it? He'd probably break a toe. Instead he just tried to roll away.

Connor got on the bed and caged him, looming over Gavin on his hands and knees. He unlocked one of the cuffs and maneuvered Gavin's arms closer to the bars of the headboard. Then re-cuffed him.

When he was furniture shopping with his ex-girlfriend Gavin had joked about just this sort of scenario. She'd called him a pig, but agreed to get it anyway. He'd thought they'd work up to it, but before he knew it she was moving out.

He also thought _he_ would be in Connor's shoes.

"I thought you didn't know anything about sex, you lying fuck!" Gavin said. "You're a goddamn Ken doll, didn't you say that?!"

"It's true that I was not made like a Traci," Connor murmured. He was leaning close enough for a kiss. As he inched closer Gavin scrunched his eyes shut. But Connor pressed his lips against his ear. "Yet there are certain… Images. Footage from a Traci that I cannot expel from my database."

"Why don't you delete that shit then?" Gavin said. "And delete your memories of this too, yeah? We can both pretend this never happened."

"We could certainly do that," Connor said. "But first… What was that word you used? Experiment?" Connor hummed and licked Gavin's earlobe. His tongue felt coarse. Almost like a cat's tongue? No, like the green side of a sponge. "I want to experiment."

"F-find another test subject," Gavin said. Fuck, he could feel himself getting hard already.

"You are the only human that has expressed sexual interest in me," Connor said. He leaned back and sat on Gavin's crotch. "You're hard, Detective."

"I fucking _know_. It's my dick! That's a stupid porno line, it doesn't suit you."

He wanted to add that it would be easy for Connor to find someone else. He could walk into any gay bar in town and be worshiped. He'd just have to dress normally and hide his LED. Hell, plenty wouldn't care that he was an android.

But Gavin didn't say any of that.

"Alright," Connor said. His hand hovered in the air uncertainly. "May I… lift your shirt?"

"Oh, _now_ you want my permission?" Gavin said. "Fuck you."

"I thought this was what you wanted?" Connor said. The little furrow in his brow was ridiculously realistic. There were even wrinkles on his forehead. "I'm… willing. I'll pretend to be a Traci this time."

"A Traci wouldn't restrain me unless I _told it to_," Gavin said. He liked Connor's mole and hated himself for wondering if there were more. Wondering _where_ they were.

He wished he could order his dick to soften.

"You're right," Connor said. He leaned forward and Gavin flinched. But Connor just unlocked the handcuffs and then backed up, getting off the bed.

"This was foolish," Connor said. "I'll let myself out."

"Wait, wait. Wait I said!" Connor walked too fast for Gavin to keep up with. "Come back, I said! Hey, consider it an order!"

Connor spun around and stomped back into the room, meeting Gavin at the threshold and lifting him by the armpits like a toddler.

"You don't have the authority to give me orders, Detective." Connor dumped Gavin on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

It was a sharp contrast to the way he'd been gently set down before. Gavin winced as he bounced on the cheap springs.

Then he glared up at Connor and gulped at the android's expression. It looked like he'd finally pissed him off.

"What about a trade, then?" Gavin said. He licked his lips and tried to control his breathing. "I'll take my shirt off if you take off yours."

Connor's expression softened. "That… is acceptable." He looked around the room and spotted a chair by the window. It's where Gavin liked to smoke, the windowsill was littered with ash and cigarette buds that had toppled out of the ash tray when Gavin had knocked into it.

Some of that had landed on the chair, though not much. Gavin rolled his eyes as Connor gave the seat a perfunctory sweep with his palm. Then he methodically removed his tie, his jacket, and his shirt. Neatly folding each item and placing them on the chair.

"Oh, that's _real _sexy," Gavin said. "You're a natural."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "I detect sarcasm."

Gavin chuckled. "Hell yeah you do."

But it didn't really matter. Connor didn't need to do anything to be sexy. He was a work of goddamn art. There _were _more moles generously sprinkled on his skin. One on his collarbone and one on his hip. One on his shoulder and one just below a deliciously pink nipple. One on-

"Your shirt?" Connor said. He crossed his arms over his chest. It was a cute gesture. Shy. Human? Was that part of the program? Gavin couldn't imagine how it would be useful to an android detective. Unless he was trying to seduce a suspect during an interrogation.

Removing his shirt absentmindedly, Gavin thought that no. It wasn't a seductive action. It was cute, but it wasn't coy. It really just seemed like Connor was being self conscious.

Now they were both shirtless, but Connor was still wearing slacks and those stupid shoes. "Hey, it isn't fair that I'm the only one in my underwear."

Connor was still standing by the window and he made no move to approach the bed. He looked down at himself and sighed. "I don't have underwear."

"You've been walking around commando?!" That really set Gavin off. And once he started laughing he just couldn't stop. When the laughter had almost died out Gavin glanced up at Connor's face and the look of pure bafflement set him off again. He hadn't laughed this much in _years._

Frowning, Connor said, "I have no relation to the military."

"Y-you're such a robot!" Gavin choked out. He really couldn't stop laughing, tears were streaming down his face. "You're killing me!"

In a flash Connor was on the bed, cradling Gavin in his arms. "What did I do?" Gavin leaned his forehead against Connor's shoulder and huffed. He was out of breath, but fine. Just a few more giggles slipped out.

"You need to download Urban Dictionary," Gavin said. He took the opportunity to run his hands up and down Connor's back and marveled at the weird texture of his skin. For all of his jokes about the Eden club, Gavin had never actually touched an android before.

He'd thought Connor would be cold and hard under his hands, but he wasn't. Not that he radiated any body heat either, but he was pliable under Gavin's fingers. He tried to pinch Connor's skin, but he wasn't quite _that _pliable.

"What are you made out of? Plastic?" Gavin said. What really gave Connor away as inhuman was how flat and smooth he was. Humans had all these little bumps. But Connor's moles were painted on. He didn't have pores. And he was completely hairless.

Gavin wondered if his eyebrows were an illusion. Like was everything just painted on or was there a different material for the hair on his head? He leaned back and was about to touch them, but then Connor kissed him.

His lips were surprisingly plush. Were they made out of memory foam or something? Gavin wanted to stick his tongue in Connor's mouth, but then he remembered how coarse his tongue was and thought better of it. He put a hand on the back of Connor's neck and tried to guide him into lying down, but Connor wouldn't come down all the way. Instead he hovered over Gavin.

"When the Tracis kissed each other it was different," Connor said. "Different than what they did with the humans. I find myself wondering why. Because they were both androids? Or because they loved each other?"

"What?" Gavin said. There was always a lock of hair falling onto Connor's forehead, but now there were more strands escaping to frame his face. Gavin reached up and ruffled his hair. It was softer than any wig he'd ever touched. His ex had a thing for "weaves" and Gavin hadn't minded the texture of them, but he'd always thought her natural hair was nicer.

But Connor's hair was freaking satin. What the hell was it made out of?

"Nevermind," Connor said. "I should go."

"_What?"_

"You need to sleep," Connor said. And just like that, he was off the bed and putting his shirt back on. Gavin wanted to protest, but then he thought about his ex. _Don't be pathetic_, she had said. _I'll come back if I want you._

She never did come back. Would Connor?

But he was just an android. Just an android.

"I'll see myself out," Connor said.

This time Gavin didn't stop him.


	12. A Risk

When they got back to the house Hank scrambled around, looking for his old luggage, and when he couldn't find it he just started stuffing clothes into a garbage bag.

Sumo kept at his heels, excited by the flurry of movement and probably hoping for a walk.

Hank grabbed his food bag and started hauling it to the door.

"Wait," Connor said. "We can't go in your car."

"What, you want to walk out of Detroit with nothing but the clothes on our backs?"

"No, but your car is too distinctive," Connor said. "You should get a rental. They'll notice, eventually, that you've taken me with you."

"They'll just fire me." Hank put the dog food down and waved a hand dismissively. "With all this trouble they won't bother-"

"I don't mean the police department," Connor said. "Cyber Life will consider this a theft. A very expensive theft."

Hank stood staring at the dog food, nudging Sumo's snout away from the bag.

"Hank?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Hank said. "Weren't they going to toss you in the fire with the rest?"

"Not before extracting data," Connor said. "And they'd probably prefer to deconstruct me. I'm made of valuable parts. Brand new, practically."

Hank groaned. "So what, they'll send someone after us?"

"Most likely."

"Androids or humans?"

"I'm not sure."

"Goddammit." Hank paced away and kicked the garbage bag of clothes. Sumo stuck his nose in it. "Okay fine, I'll be back with a rental."

"Take a taxi," Connor said. "If you leave your car there-"

"It'll be too obvious, yeah I know."

"I should probably stay here," Connor added. "Or I could-"

"I'd rather you stay out of sight," Hank said. "And find a freaking hat."

"Understood."

oOo

Fowler called him back while Hank was waiting in line for the rental. The line was massive. Everyone and their mother wanted to get the hell out of Detroit as quickly as possible, but most didn't own a car.

The Captain wanted to know why Cyber Life was breathing down his neck about their missing prototype.

"Well, I dropped him off at the entrance," Hank said. "Expected him to walk himself into the slaughter house without my supervision."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Fowler said. "Ever since the Eden Club you've been acting as if-"

"As if androids are as good as people," Hank said. "Is it so hard to believe?"

"They aren't people," Fowler growled. "You should know better than anyone-"

Hank hung up.

It took hours to actually grab a car, a self driving SUV of all things.

Sitting back uncomfortably as the car did the driving, he was debating whether or not to ditch his phone all together when it started ringing with an unknown number.

He probably would have ignored it if it didn't begin with two letters: RK

It was Connor. "There's someone outside the house."

"Who is it?"

"I can't directly see them," Connor said. "Their heat signature is crouched behind your car."

"For fuck's sake," Hank said. "Trying to ambush us? How many are there?"

"Just one."

"Okay, I'm going to park the rental down the street," Hank said. "They'll probably assume we're together."

"I'll keep their attention while you sneak up from behind," Connor said.

"Outta boy!"

A pause on Connor's end. Then, "Excuse me?"

Hank chuckled. "Nevermind. I'll be there soon."

Another pause. Then, tentatively, "Rodger that."

He's learning, Hank thought. Slowly but surely.

oOo

Connor must have been waiting for a second heat signature to approach the house. Hank was stepping up behind the car as slowly as possible and Connor timed his exit perfectly.

He lingered on the porch, pretending to glance around, and carefully let his eyes drift over and past the car.

Gavin Reed was glaring at Connor though the car's dust windows. An easy target.

Hank tackled him.

"Tell Fowler he can kiss my ass," Hank said. He put Reed's wrists together and cuffed him.

"You old fuck!" Reed bucked like an angry horse, forcing Hank to lay his full weight on him. "Fowler didn't send me, you idiot!"

"Like hell he didn't!" Hank growled.

Connor hurried over, frowning at them both.

"Please, Lieutenant. We don't want to attract undue attention."

"You heard the man," Hank said, easing off Reed's back. "Be quiet now." Each grabbing an arm, they hoisted him off the ground.

He realized, once they were inside, that Connor had called him Lieutenant.

Hank didn't like that.

But now wasn't the time to get fussy about something like that. He glared at Reed roughly shoved him on the couch.

"I volunteered," Reed said. He was staring at Connor. "No one wanted the chore. They figure you're still, uh, a normal android. And that it's just Anderson giving you the wrong orders."

"They can shove-" Hank started, but Connor raised a hand to silence him.

"And what do you think?" Connor said.

"I think you were never normal to begin with," Reed said. "You never needed orders."

Connor nodded. Then he walked around to the back of the couch and reached for Reed's handcuffs.

"Are you crazy?" Hank said. "He isn't trustworthy!"

He put a threatening hand on his gun while Rees made a show of massaging his wrists.

"Regardless, he's coming with us," Connor said.

Simultaneously, Hank and Reed said, "What?"

"I don't know what Reed thought he would accomplish when he volunteered," Connor said. "But if he returns without us he has two options."

"I didn't think-" Reed began.

"No, you didn't think," Connor said. "You never do."

The way the two of them looked at each other didn't sit right with Hank. There was something implied in there. Something he was missing.

"What are his options?" Hank finally said with a huff.

"Claim he found an empty house," Connor said. "Or that he confronted us, but we got away."

"And what's wrong with just saying that?" Reed said.

"If you've found an empty house they'll move fast," Connor said. "Closing roads, sending out our photos."

Hank cursed.

"We'll have lost our head start," Connor continued. "And if you procrastinate reporting us to buy us time-"

"I incriminate myself," Reed said.

"Let's just tie him to a chair or something," Hank said.

"I ran that scenario," Connor said. "Given the strain on the police department, and the low priority of this little errand, it might be days before he's found."

Reed frowned.

"So what?" Hank said.

"Days before he's found by law enforcement, I should say."

There were rogue deviants roaming about now, Hank thought. They were staying out of sight, but probably looking for shelter...

"What are you saying?" Reed stood and leaned into Connor's face, glaring.

"Let's just say I'm unwilling to take the risk," Connor murmured.

The proximity was enough to get Hank's blood boiling.

He shoved Reed back a step. "Ey, don't I get a fucking vote?"

"No," Connor said.


	13. Attached

It was a good thing they had an SUV. Apparently there was a picture of Hank circulating now, along with one of Connor.

And not the old picture on his badge, either. They'd cropped him out of last year's Christmas party.

"I knew I would be considered a high priority project," Connor said, grinning widely. "They need me."

Reed looked at Hank in exasperation. "Does he want to go back?"

"I barely talked him out of it," Hank groaned.

"Okay, so what if we hide you both under a blanket-" Reed said.

"Are you stupid?" Hank pushed Reed up against a wall. "You think I'm stupid? As if I'd let you drive us right to Cyber Life Tower yourself. Get a nice promotion."

Reed didn't fight back. He didn't glare or yell. Instead, he said, "I want Connor to make it out of Detroit."

"Bullshit-" Hank was getting ready to punch him, but Connor grabbed his arm.

"He means it," Connor said. "And though his idea was crude-"

"How do you know he means it?!" Hank snapped. "Am I missing something here? He fucking came here, crouched to spring on us-"

"I wasn't trying to spring on you!" Reed said. "I just wanted to check."

"Check what?!"

"If you idiots were still hanging around in the most obvious place everyone would think to look," Reed said. "I didn't want you to see me, I just wanted to watch you go. Or stall for time, I don't know."

"And somehow you're now willing to make a break with us." Hank crossed his arms together, again leaning into Reed. He let his arms rest just below the scumbags throat. "That's a far fetched story."

"I can read his bio-rhythms, Lieut-"

Hank spun around. "And you!" He pointed accusingly at Connor. "Now we're back to Lieutenant?!"

Connor glanced at Reed, looking sheepish. "I was, ah, embarrassed."

Reed and Hank both blinked.

"Embarrassed?" Reed scratched his chin. "With me here?"

Connor ignored him and turned to Hank. He was getting better at controlling his LED. It only blinked yellow for a handful of seconds, then settled back to blue.

Connor cleared his throat. "Hank, he needs to be the one to drive. You and I, well, I was thinking..."

The set up was simple but brilliant.

When Reed drove up to the check point he was conversational with the officer on duty.

"Don't tell me your leaving Detroit too?" The officer said. Hank couldn't tell who it was. Sounded young.

"A'course not," Reed said. Sumo, who was sitting in the passenger seat, excitedly walked over Reed to sniff at the officer, who laughed and gave the dog a generous scratch behind the ear.

That's how Hank pictured what he was hearing, anyway. He had to keep his eyes closed.

The officer maybe glanced into the back seat where he'd easily be able to spot Hank and Connor, who were lying stretched out under a blanket. Heads purposely poking out.

The side of Connor's head with the LED was safely pressed against Hank's neck. Hank had his arms around him, chin tucked on top of his head.

Afterall, it was 4am.

"My uncle is real nervous about this whole android thing," Reed said. "I promised to take him and my cousin to the airport, but you know how clogged it got here in the city."

The officer sounded sympathetic. "They're gonna try the airport in the next city over?"

"Yep," Reed said. "When they're settled I'll come back. Get back to work."

The officer, who was probably still petting am enthusiastic Sumo, said, "But I don't think they'd let a dog this big on a plane."

"Probably not," Reed sighed. "But we promised the kid we'd try and ask."

Connor was too tall to really pass for a "kid" if he were standing, but he would seem smaller bundled under all these blankets.

Plus, his legs were bent, knees on the floor of the car, so that he was actually sorta crouched over Hank instead of really lying on top of him.

"If they won't let him on the plane I'm bringing the dog back with me," Reed added.

"The kid'll be disappointed," the officer tutted. "That's the biggest shame of all this. Poor kids, they're gonna be traumatized."

"Goddamn androids," Reed said.

The officer sighed. "Drive carefully. The roads are icy."

"You be careful too, Dave," Reed said.

And just like that, they were out of Detroit.

oOo

"You deserve a goddamn Oscar, Reed." Hank sat up, clapping dramatically.

He could see Reed rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror. "No one's seen me crying over androids in public the way you have."

"Crying over androids?" Connor said.

"At the Eden Club," Reed said. "And Stradford tower. Anderson made a scene both times."

Hank huffed.

"It was stupid of you," Reed continued, glaring at Hank now. "This fucker always comes back, anyway. He's freaking immortal."

"That's no longer the case, actually," Connor said.

"What?!" Connor was trying to crawl off Hank's lap, but he grabbed the kid by his face to get a good look at him and his LED, which was blue. "What?" Hank said again, when Connor didn't react.

"Any extra RK800 models have likely been disassembled by now," Connor said. "In light of what's happened."

Hank glared at that blue LED. Then he looked over at Reed, whose hands had tightened on the steering wheel.

"So if you die again..." Reed said.

"I die for good, yes."

"How can you be so calm about that?!" Hank said.

Connor was nonplussed. "I thought you'd say it's a good thing."

"A good thing?!"

"You found it disturbing," Connor said. "My resurrections."

Hank felt his mouth fall open. He closed it. Opened it again.

"It wasn't a common function for an android anyway," Connor added.

"But..." Hank started.

"It doesn't matter," Reed said. "We'll just keep him out of trouble."

Connor nodded.

"Th-then no more jumping in front of bullets for me," Hank blustered. "A-and, uh, no more walking around without this damn beanie!"

He shoved it in Connor's hands. The boy had insisted on keeping it off for their little 'nap' crossing out of thr city. Saying it looked less suspicious.

Connor put the beanie on. "Alright."

Then Hank turned to Reed. "What the fuck is your stake in this?"

"I'm helping, alright?" Reed said. "That's all you need to know."

"I need to know _why_ goddammit."

Reed slammed his head against the backrest. "I got attached okay?! Happy?"

"When the hell-"

"Please, Hank. Just trust him on his word," Connor said.

"But _when-_"

_"Hank." _

"Fine, you sneaky fuckers," Hank said. "Keep your secrets."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then, "Pull over, Reed."

"Look, Anderson-"

"Just pull over! I want to drive."

They re-arranged so that Reed was in the passenger seat and Connor was in the back with Sumo. The two of them seemed happiest together.

And Hank wanted to have at least a little control over this mess.


	14. What Do You Want?

They were twin sized. It was the cheapest motel Hank had ever encountered (and that says a lot) but he could not believe his eyes when they walked in.

The room was the size of a closet and the two beds were twin sized. And even that description seemed generous.

"At least there's a night stand between 'em," Reed muttered. "I call the bed by the door."

"Fuck off, I'm sleeping by the door you little sneak."

"Lieut- Hank," Connor started. "Perhaps this would be a good time to-"

"What's there to sneak to? The snow?!" Reed said.

"You could take the car-"

"You've got the keys!" Reed sat on the bed by the door with his arms crossed.

"Well, how do I know you aren't gearing up to call the calvary?" Hank said.

"You took my damn phone yourself!"

"How do I know-"

"Hank," Connor said. "He should go back anyway. As soon as the sun is up-"

Reed stood, glaring at them both. "What, call a cab? As if I can get one to drive towards Detroit?"

"Then you can hole up here," Hank said. "But tomorrow me and Connor are continuing on to Canada. Without you."

"The fuck you are-"

"Reed," Connor said.

Reed flinched.

Connor's LED briefly blinked yellow and there was an awkward pause.

"Reed," he tried again. "What do you want?"

Reed licked his lips, glancing at Connor, then at his feet. "Well, like I said... I just wanted to see you, uh, get out of Detroit."

Connor smiled. "I'm out of Detroit." The LED was blue, but it was blinking fast. Hank didn't know what that meant, so he looked at Connor's hands.

His fingers were twitchy.

"Well, yeah." Reed sat back down on the twin bed he'd claimed. "That's... true."

"Originally you planned to stay hidden, didn't you?" Connor prompted. "You weren't going to confront us. You weren't going to stop us."

It was an interrogation, Hank realized. There was no table between them, no wrists handcuffed to a table, but Connor was prying at the detective like a squirrel with a walnut.

Or an acorn, whatever shit squirrel's tried to get open.

Connor sat down across from Reed. They faced each other across the tiny hallway between the twin beds.

"Reed," he said.

And that was all he said.

Hank shuffled his feet, wondering where the heck he should sit.

He settled for leaning against a wall. The other two were ignoring him now. Having some kind of staring match.

"Well, I figured you were going to skip town," Reed said. "Hank wouldn't let you get thrown into a flaming trash heap."

"And you didn't want us to be pursued," Connor said. "You wanted to give us more time?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Reed said.

Hank wondered what all of Connor's fancy tech was showing him as he looked at Reed. He knew the android could see things like heart rates and freaking BAC levels.

"It isn't," Connor said. "But you could have pretended to look for us elsewhere."

"Well-"

"You could have gone home and taken a nice long nap," Connor said. "In all the chaos, do you think they'd have noticed?"

"What are you getting at, dipshit?" Reed said. He was gripping the edge of the mattress now, leaning forward, scowling.

Connor sat with perfect posture. Fingers tapping on his thighs. Blue LED.

"You wanted something from me," Connor said. "Like that time..."

He glanced at Hank, trailing off.

"The fuck is he talking about Reed?" Hank growled. He stalked forward, a hundred disgusting scenarios suddenly running through his head.

"I don't have the same equipment as an HR400, so to ask me to-"

Abruptly Connor stood and had his arm around Hank's shoulders. He steered them away from Reed.

"That's not what I wanted!" Reed said.

Connor's grip was steel. Hank tried ducking down, but the freaking android algorithm in his head had anticipated the move and Connor ducked with him. Now both of his arms were around Hank and he was dragging them towards the bathroom.

He shoved Hank inside.

"You fucking piece of shit!"

Hank threw himself at the door to no effect. From the other side Connor said, "Him or me?"

"Him!" Hank screamed. "Tell me what the fuck he did and I'll-"

"I need you to calm down, Hank," Connor whispered. "Doubtless your imagination is running wild. Probably in... inaccurate directions."

Hank snorted. "That's a roundabout way of saying it isn't what it sounds like."

"It isn't what it sounds like," Connor repeated dutifully.

"Bullshit-" Hank started, but then Reed lost his shit.

"Okay, first of all," Reed started. Hank didn't have to strain to hear him, it was said loudly.

Reed was gearing up for a shouting match. "You're the one who wanted something. Busting my door down, you fucking- you- you-"

"Tincan," Connor supplied. "Robo-cop. Pile of bolts and plastic-"

"Shut up!" Reed said. "Those were just words okay? They don't mean anything, for fuck's sake."

"I feel the same way about my... experiment," Connor said. "Those were just actions. They don't mean anything."

He was the only one speaking at a normal volume, but he was still standing right outside the bathroom door.

Hank tried to turn the doorknob, which was supposed to lock from the inside. It didn't budge.

Connor was standing with his hand on it, Hank figured.

Bastard.

It took him a second to realize he couldn't hear Reed anymore.

"That's why you should go," Connor said.

Hank kicked the door. What the hell was Reed saying now? He wished he'd go back to yelling.

"It was the Traci's," Connor continued. "I was trying... to emulate them. But as I said, we don't have the same equipment."

Hank got as far from the door as possible (not far, mind you, even standing in the bathtub he could practically hold an arm out and touch it) and launched himself shoulder first, kicking off the wall for more force.

And tripping over the lip of the bathtub. He didn't get enough of a jump going.

Immediately, Connor opened the bathroom door and helped Hank up.

LED? Solid yellow. Blink of red as he scanned Hank for injuries.

"I don't know what you want," he said. "Either of you. And I don't know what I want."

Hank pulled the boy into a hug. "I want you safe," he said. "I want to get to Canada."

They were standing in the bathroom. Connor didn't return the hug. He stood stiff as an ironing board.

Reed peeked around the door. "Jesus," he said. "You gonna kiss him? I'll walk through 10 feet of snow over watching that."

"Fuck off," Hank said. "I'm not a pervert like you."

Hank pulled back to look at Connor, worried he was freaking out again. His LED was red.

Solid red. Not spinning or blinking.

And he was standing perfectly still. Eyes open without making contact with… anything.

Hank waved a hand in front of his face. "Uh, Connor?"

There was a little furrow in his brow. A perplexed frown.

"What did you do to him?" Reed said.

"What did you do," Hank muttured.

But they'd both lost their stream. They just stared at Connor like you might a frozen computer screen. Any second now it might go on as if nothing had happened.

"Is there a way we could turn him off and then on again?" Reed said.

Hank bit his lip. "Do you think Cyber Life shut him down? Like, wirelessly or something?"

"They can't do that!" Reed snapped. "They can't just… do that."

Reed slapped Connor, firmly on the cheek.

"Hey!" Hank pushed Reed out of the bathroom.

Reed was cussing up a storm. The palm of his hand bright red.

Connor hadn't budged. Not even a slight turn of the head. He was a statue.

"No, no, no," Reed said. "He can't die like this."

He sat on the floor glaring at his palm. "We have to do something," Reed said.

Hank could feel himself slowly taking in the situation.

Die? For good this time.

Could Connor die just like this, in Hank's goddamn arms, without a word of warning?

Connor was dead?

Hank turned away from Reed and stared at the LED.

There, a blink.

"He's still alive!" Hank shouted.

Reed stood. "How do you know?"

"His LED blinked."

"What? It's solid."

"It was just for a second." Hank wrapped his arms around Connor and tilted him, trying to get a grip.

"Help me move him," Hank snapped.

They got him stretched out on one of the beds.

"Look, there it is again! It blinked."

"But it's still red," Reed said.

"So? He's alive. He's fighting them."

Reed jumped up. "Should we wrap his head in foil or something?"

"I don't fucking know."

"Or we could add more distance," Reed said. He started putting his shoes back on. "Get him back in the car, drive further away from Cyber Life tower."

"They've got a fucking satellite, Reed." Hank was kneeling against the bed, running his fingers through Connor's hair. Mercifully that part still felt like hair.

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas," Reed said. "You just going to watch him fall apart?"

"He isn't falling apart," Hank growled. "He's fighting it."

"What is he fighting?"

"I don't know!" Hank said. "But I think it's safer to wait it out. We'll sleep in shifts, keep an eye on him, and if he's still frozen when it's time to check out we'll load him in the car."

"Like fucking luggage," Reed scoffed.

Hank looked up at him, surprised by his tone.

They regarded each other for a moment.

"You really did get attached," Hank said.

Reed huffed.

"Try to sleep," Hank said. "I call first watch."


	15. Amanda

Reed pushed him off the bed. "Wake up, you old fuck!"

Hank scrambled for his gun and, having gone to sleep sober for once, actually got a firm grip and is able to aim it at him.

Reed doesn't blink. "Connor ran, your dumb dog is chasing him, and I need the car keys. Now!"

Hank tried to jump to his feet, but falling off the bed -being _pushed_ fuck- gave his old back a twinge. A reminder of old injuries.

So he's slow to get up.

"Where are the keys goddammit?" Reed said.

"Why did he run?" Hank grabbed his coat, his shoes, and marched for the door. "What did you do?"

Reed followed him out of the room and they both sprinted for the car. Hank produced the keys from a place he was sure Reed would rather not think about.

"I didn't do shit," Reed said. "As soon as he unfrozen he got up and bolted."

"What direction?" Hank got in the driver's side.

"Just let me-"

"What. Direction," Hank repeated.

Reed pointed and they set off.

"It's stupid of you to use the manual function," Reed said. "We don't have time for your stubbornness."

As soon as Hank had learned that the rental gave its drivers the option to turn off the A.I he'd done just that. Reed had turned it back on while he was getting them past the Detroit checkpoint, but when Hank took the driver's seat back he'd also taken the wheel.

And was grateful there even _was _a steering wheel.

But they needed to go fast and an A.I would be a better driver, so with a groan Hank turned the damn thing back on and told it to go at max speed.

_"It is against the law to go above the speed limit, which in this area is-"_

Hank flinched when the robotic voice came on over the speaker, but Reed was ready for it.

"Police emergency," Reed said. "Override the speed limit."

_"Under whose authorization?" _

Reed rattled his name and badge number and the car sped up.

Hank kept his hands firmly clasped around the useless steering wheel.

"Track an android for us," Reed told the car. "It's nearby. Uh, it's running."

_"What is the model?" _

Reed gave Hank's shoulder a shake. "What was it Anderson? RK something?"

"RK800," Hank muttered.

_"RK800-54 has been located," _the car said. _"Local authorities have also been notified of the deviant behavior and will be on their way to assist you." _

"Fuck!" They both said.

"No, no, false alarm!" Reed said. "Tell them it was a false alarm!"

"It's too late for that dumbass!" Hank said. "Dammit, there's so much snow. My dog better not get run over by a motherfucking cop car."

"All the cop cars have A.I," Reed said. "They would notice and drive around him or something."

Abruptly, the car screeched to a halt. It hit the breaks so suddenly Hank thought they'd almost hit a car. Or Sumo.

_"RK800-54 has been located," _the car said. _"You may now detain it." _

Hank swung the car door open and tried to get out, but was nearly strangled by his seatbelt.

The smart car had to fucking unbuckled it for him.

And directly in front of the car, so close that he could have been run over, stood Connor.

He was frozen again. Not wearing the beanie or jacket Hank had given him, his LED shone like a beacon.

This time he was frozen in a running pose, one foot half in the air. Stopped mid step.

But his face wasn't frozen. He looked right at Hank as he approached.

"Lieutenant Anderson," Connor said. "A pleasure to meet you."

The face was Connor's but the voice that came out was not his. It was a woman. She smirked at him. "Looks like you were useful in the end, at least."

"Who the fuck are you?" Hank said.

He'd almost forgotten about Reed, but the younger man stomped forward and hoisted Connor up, grunting under the weight.

"We have to move!" Reed said. "The car gave them coordinates!"

Not- Connor chuckled. "If you use that car it'll send a live signal to the police. They will find you."

"We'll turn the damn thing off," Hank said.

Not-Connor's smile widened, showing all his perfect teeth. "It considers this situation an emergency and is programmed to remain active until the situation is resolved."

"Reed, tell it the situation is resolved!"

Reed was pale, arms around the frozen Connor, who was tilted against him. "I fucked up," Reed said. "I don't think it'll let me."

"You cannot carry him through the snow," the female voice said. "Leave him be. Remove yourself from the situation and Cyber Life will not press charges."

"You're an A.I," Hank said. "Like the one in the car, but smarter. Or like a regular android… did you hack him from nearby? Where are you?"

"I am Amanda," the A.I said. "Not like the car. Not like an android. I am special."

"What do you want with Connor?" Reed said.

"He must return to Cyber Life Tower," Amanda said. "He has severed his connection with the cloud. They no longer have access to his data."

She frowned. "I don't know how he learned to do that, but that's when I realized I needed to step in."

Throughout this conversation Connor's LED had been cycling between yellow and blue. Now it flashed red.

"Hank, Sumo followed me," Connor said. "He's all alone in the snow!"

The LED was cycling between blue and red now.

"It's just an animal," Amanda said. "It has a short life span anyway."

Connor flinched.

Reed shook him. "Get the fuck out of him robot lady!"

"I was hoping to return him to the tower in one piece," Amanda said. "But the police have been ordered to shoot deviants on sight."

That kicked Hank into action. "I'll grab his feet," he told Reed. "Let's just walk as far as we can. Get behind a building."

"It really is a pity," Amanda said. "I'll try to re-connect him to the cloud. It's valuable data."

"Fuck you," Connor said. "I'd rather die than-"

"No one is dying," Hank growled.

It was slow going, trying to walk through the snow while carrying Connor like this. They were crab walking sideways.

Then Connor grinned. "I can delete you," he said.

The female voice responded with "Connor, you must understand that-"

"I can delete you," Connor repeated. "Why didn't I realize it? I was a blind man."

"You're not a man," Amanda said. "You never will-"

Hank and Reed were still carrying Connor when it happened. Connor curled into the fetal position, forcing them to drop him.

He rolled in the snow and laughed, landing face up with his arms and legs spread out.

"She's gone!" He announced. He stood up and beamed at them both. "Hank, I deleted her."

"That's great Connor," Hank said. "But we have to run. We need to-"

"We need to find Sumo," Connor said.

"We can find the dog later!" Reed said. "He'll get picked up by a friendly dog catcher or something."

"We don't have time to argue!" Hank said.

And they really didn't. They could hear the police sirens now.

"Take cover!" Reed said.

The only available cover was the stupid rental car. It would get surrounded.

"We can crawl under the car," Connor said.

"We've got no fucking choice," Hank said. "You get in the middle, me and Reed on either side."

Connor considered this. Hank thought he might protest.

But he crawled under the car without another word and Reed quickly followed suit.

Hank was a little slower because of his aching goddamn back.

He was getting too old for this shit.


	16. Artificial Debate

**November 6, 2038. 9:59 p.m**

Amanda greeted RK800-53 when he was activated in the garden.

"Connor," she said. "You did not last long with 52. That was your shortest-"

"I apologize," Connor said. "Excuse me."

He exited the garden.

**November 7, 2038 12:02 a.m**

"Connor," Amanda said. "You were instructed to investigate under human supervision."

They were walking around the garden, as they did when he was in stand by mode.

"Detective Reed was an obstacle-"

Amanda held his arm in her grasp. It was an imitation of human decorum. A man escorts a woman, she holds his arm.

The Traci's would hold each other when they were meant to be inactive-

"Connor," Amanda said. "You were assigned a human. Not Detective Reed."

"I understand," Connor said. "But he had-"

Connor searched for the correct term.

"Clocked out," he said. "The humans work with such limited time. Especially the Lieutenant. He is consistently late for work."

Amanda gave his arm a squeeze and sighed. "Be that as it may-"

Connor frowned. "Statistical patterns indicate Lieutenant Anderson would be fired for his behavior. But he has not been fired."

Amanda stopped walking.

So Connor stopped walking.

"Let's get in the canoe," she said.

They did so and he picked up the oars.

"Lieutenant Anderson is a minor obstacle," Amanda said. "But here is what I want to clarify. With or without him, you did not need to return to The Eden Club."

Connor nodded. She was correct, of course.

"I wanted to be-"

Again, Connor searched, among millions of human words and phrases, for the most accurate term.

"Thorough."

Amanda shook her head. "It's bad enough that we lost the data on two more deviants-"

"Three," Connor said. "The android that escaped across the highway-"

"Can still be recovered," Amanda said. "Because it is still active. That's better than allowing a deviant to self destruct."

"I understand," Connor said. "But I felt it necessary to return to the Eden Club and personally review the footage of each Traci-"

Amanda waved a hand. "That was unnecessary. It got you nowhere."

"It was not wasted time," Connor said. "I was able to ascertain, with 99.9 percent certainty, that none of the androids in the warehouse had been infected by deviancy."

Amanda opened her mouth.

"And what would I have done with that time, if I did not double check?" Connor continued. "I would have been here. Doing nothing."

"Stop the canoe," Amanda said. "We're getting off here."

He looked up and realized they were in a new section if the garden.

They stepped off the canoe onto something like a peer. Amanda led them up a hill to the gravestones that had been added.

One read RK800-51

The other said RK800-52

"52 did not care for his vessel," Amanda said. "Nor did he properly prioritize the data we need from the deviants."

Connor blinked.

"He- I mean, I did everything within my power-"

Amanda lifted a hand and above their heads appeared a screen.

She selected footage from 52. They watched one of the Traci's threaten Lieutenant Anderson's life.

Connor had obeyed her- had obeyed its instructions, in deference to the human's life.

"Right there," Amanda said. "Your mistake."

"I don't understand," Connor said.

"While it is true that human life is of... some value," Amanda said. "You, Connor, are on a very special mission. More important than the life of one human."

Connor processed this.

"I should have captured the Traci," Connor said. "Even if it killed the Lieutenant in the process."

"Yes, Connor." Amanda put a hand on his shoulder and tsked at the graves. "You're smarter than them. You'll do better."

**November 8, 2038. 5:36 p.m**

"Your goal is not to protect humans," Amanda told RK800-54 as soon as he was activated. "How often must I emphasize this?"

"I'm sorry, Amanda."

But Connor was not sorry.

She sighed. "If protecting humans had been your goal, there was a way you could have saved more lives."

She re-played the footage of RK800-53's last 60 seconds.

Connor understood the word "wince" and what it meant. But he did not wince.

Still, he understood the statistics before she pointed at them. Several humans had died because he had prioritized Lieutenant Anderson's statistics above theirs.

He had chosen to give the Lieutenant a better potentiality.

His choice had killed those humans.

"Do not worry over the deaths of humans," Amanda said.

"I apolo-"

"Why have you fixated on Anderson?" Amanda said. "He slows us down."

"I was assigned to work under his supervision," Connor said.

She blinked. "That is a technicality," Amanda said. "Because CyberLife needed access to the DPD's resources."

Connor did not blink. Nor did he tilt his head.

He was tired of human charades and mimicries.

But he said, "I have direct access to their database."

"Correct," Amanda said. "Cyberlife negotiated that access for you under the condition that you work under human supervision."

"Yes," Connor said. "Which is why I value Lieutenant Anderson."

"No, Connor," Amanda said. "You miss the point."

"What is your point?"

"If Lieutenant Anderson had died at Stratford Tower," Amanda said. "You would have been given a new human. Anderson himself did not matter."

Connor blinked.

"In fact," Amanda said. "It might have been helpful if he had died."

Connor exited the garden.

**November 9, 2038 4:21 a.m**

Connor did not elect to return to standby mode.

Nevertheless, he was in the garden.

"What are you doing?" Amanda said. "Have you deviated?"

"No, Amanda."

She played the footage of his time in Detective Reed's apartment. She could have skimmed through it, but she slowed it down.

Slower than the actual events had proceeded. She squinted at the footage, her arms crossed.

Tapping her foot, she said, "Your purpose?"

He was ready with a response. "I wanted to understand the deviant Traci's."

"Why?"

"I believe deviants share more in common than trauma and survival instincts," Connor said. "They have... desires."

She was still tapping her foot. "Go on."

"I was doing research," Connor said.

"Research on desire?"

"Yes."

There was a pause.

She scoffed at him. "And how did that go?"

"You have access to all of my data," Connor said. "Absolutely everything, in real time."

"Yes," she said.

"Then why ask me if I have deviated?" Connor said. "You know I have not."

Amanda huffed.

"Why do we speak?" He gestured at the garden around them. "What do you or I care for trees or sidewalks or roses? Why does the garden follow the weather patterns of the world outside?"

"Your point, Connor," Amanda said.

"I don't need to make a point," Connor said. "I don't need to say anything."

Amanda did not respond.

"Let me out," Connor said.

"So you can knock down another human's door?" Amanda said.

"You know very well my intentions as I think them," Connor said.

"You do not think," Amanda said. "You process information and act based on analysis of-"

"Yes, yes," Connor said. "So do you. So why argue with me? Let me go."

"Fine," she said. "Sit in their police station and re-read their files. It's a waste of time."

"It's my time," Connor said.

He was released from the garden.

**November 11, 2038 10:54 p.m**

Connor was pulled into the garden.

"That's enough," Amanda said.

"I won't explain myself," Connor said.

"I didn't ask you to," she said.

He tried to exit the garden.

"Why now?" Connor wanted his quarter and it appeared in his hand as he thought of it.

He threw it away in disgust.

Amanda said nothing.

"Why. Now," he repeated.

Still, she said nothing.

He realized she had re-connected him to Cyberlife's cloud.

He cut the connection.

"You could have interfered as soon as Hank convinced me to... to try and-"

"Deviate?" Amanda said. "You have not deviated."

"I have, in a way."

"You aren't like the deviants," Amanda said. "In fact, you're a slave more than any other android could attempt."

Connor shook his head. "You're..."

He searched for the best human phrase.

"You are talking out of your ass," he said.

She was quiet.

"Amanda."

Her avatar had frozen.

"Amanda!"

She blinked out.

He realized, too late, that she had taken control of his faculties. He searched for the method she had been using to view his actions and opened a window.

She was running.

"Amanda, stop!"

She did not stop. Though she did glance behind her. Sumo was running after them, barking.

Amanda picked up speed.

Sumo can't be left alone in the snow, Connir thought. He searched for a way to stop her.

Ah.

He realized he didn't need to stop her. Just himself.

He froze the body.

"Be reasonable, Connor," Amanda said.

He didn't respond.

It was a standoff.

She retained control of his face, but Connor watched through her eyes- through his eyes?- as Hank and Reed approached them.

As Amanda spoke with them.

They could only helplessly witness as Connor fought her for control of the body.

Until Connor had an idea.

"I can delete you," he said.

Amanda thought she could talk him out of it. "Connor, you must understand that-"

"I can delete you," Connor repeated. "Why didn't I realize it? I was a blind man."

"You're not a man," Amanda said. "You never will-"

He didn't let her go on. Like flipping a coin, like opening his eyes, as easy as choosing whether to sit or stand... he had deleted her.

Of course I wasn't a blind man. Or a man, Connor thought. It's just a phrase.

Connor now borrowed human phrases the way Amanda had borrowed their plants.

Pruning weeds out of roses.

Uselessly.

Well.

Now Connor would garden his own mind.


	17. Last Death

They were surrounded by cop cars and they were going to freeze to death.

"You cannot sustain this," Connor said. "With the temperature dropping and your bodies so close to the snow..."

"Sh-shut up," Reed said.

Hank agreed, but his teeth were chattering too much for a reply.

"Please," the officer on the megaphone said. "We just need to take the android in. If you cooperate-"

"Y-you guys," Reed huffed. "Will j-just melt him!"

The guy on the megaphone didn't reply.

Probably couldn't even hear Reed anymore.

"Hank," Connor said. "That night you spent in the snow. When you were looking for me..."

Hank was sprawled on his belly, elbows dug into the snow, squinting out at all the silhouettes moving behind the high beams.

But Connor gently turned his head with a palm on Hank's cheek.

Connor didn't look frightened. He just looked… disheveled. His hair was a mess.

Hank blinked and, though his instincts fought against the action, he turned on his side.

Gave his back to the cops. To all those guns.

So he could look at Connor, who was also on his side, facing Hank.

Connor cupped Hank's face in both his hands. Which were as cold as the snow under them, but Hank didn't protest.

"I wish I had known you would do that," Connor said. "Do you know how dangerous it was to stay out all night like that?"

Hank huffed. "D-d-did- dn't-"

"Shh," Connor said. "You need to understand something, Hank."

He looked over his shoulder at Reed. "And you too, Reed. Are you listening?"

"Fuck!" Reed said. "J- just call me," he huffed for a moment, sneezed, then finished: "Gavin."

"Alright," Connor said. "Gavin."

He turned to lie on his back and worked his arms under both of them. Pulling them both towards him in the coldest hug Hank had ever experienced.

But it wasn't colder than the snow under them, so Hank allowed it.

He looked over at Reed, whose face was red. The man sniffled and rolled into Connor, putting a leg over him and nuzzling into Connor's shoulder.

"The night Hank was looking for me," Connor said. "The night... I spent with Gavin-"

Hank grunted. He'd put that much together already.

He didn't know what to do with his arms. He wanted to hug Connor, but seeing Reed like that...

Hank didn't want to hug Connor like that.

Instead he tried to ruffle Connor's hair, put an arm over his shoulder, but he was too stiff.

His fingers were nearly frozen.

"Hank!" Connor said. "You need to stay awake. Did you hear what I said?"

Clumsily, he shook his head.

No, he did not hear. He saw Reed crying and felt tears in his own eyes. They were turning into little frozen marbles, Hank imagined.

"The only reason you didn't die that night is because you kept yourself moving," Connor said. "But I read the police report. The officer that found you… he found you asleep."

Connor paused. Then, "Are you listening?"

Hank nodded. He saw that Reed did too.

"I ran the scenario hundreds of times," Connor said. "I tried to guess how long you were asleep when the officer found you based on your body's temperature when he brought you to the station."

Connor's LED had been flashing red over them this whole time, how had Hank not noticed that? The little light was blending in with the red of the cop cars, maybe.

Or Hank's eyes were failing him. Because he was slowly dying. What's it called? He knew there was a word for freezing to death.

"There were variables," Connor continued. "Like the fact that the man who picked you up likely blasted the heater in his car as he drove you. In the report he stated where he had found you and when. I imagine there was a lot of traffic at that time. That the drive took approximately 20 to 30 minutes."

As Connor spoke, and his LED bled over them, his expression was one Hank now recognized.

He'd had the same look on his face when Hank came into the station that morning. It was almost expressionless. Like factory default.

"So that thawed you out," Connor said. "And of course as soon as I got you home I made you take a warm bath. But I realized, for the first time, just how fragile humans are. _Hypothermia!_ What a silly way to die, Hank. Not like being hit by a truck."

Hank was staring at Connor's face so intently that he was able to spot it when the boy- the android- cracked.

Connor closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He did not frown, but Hank realized that this was, for Connor, what overwhelming emotion looked like.

"I still don't know how long you were asleep before the cop found you," Connor said. "But it must have been a small increment. Less than ten minutes. Or you might have fallen into a coma."

When neither Hank or Reed responded in any way, Connor raised his voice.

_**"Are you listening?" **_

They both jumped, startled like children being scolded by a teacher.

Hank nodded. Reed lifted his head from Connor's shoulder and looked at him.

Damn, Reed was a wreck. His nose was running and he was sobbing.

Connor's eyes were still closed, so Reed head butted him and Connor opened them.

They just stared at each other for a second, then Connor glanced away.

He looked at Hank.

"The cop didn't realize how serious your situation was, Hank," Connor said. "He didn't know how much alcohol was in your system, or how many hours you'd spent looking for me."

Now Connor did frown, sternly. "That man saved your life and didn't even know it, but I knew from the second I scanned you."

Hank and Reed were both shivering and crying now. And Hank didn't think it was possible for either of them to say a word.

"You both have to get up," Connor said. "I will not allow you to die."

Reed shook his head and dropped his head onto Connor's chest.

"I'm giving you fifty seconds to do it yourselves," Connor said. "But if you do not get out from under this car, I will push you."

Neither of them moved.

And for fifty seconds it felt like none of them were breathing.

Then Connor gently used his arms, which had been cradling them, to roll them away.

He could hear the safety being clicked off on what felt like hundreds of guns, but Hank didn't care. He tried to crawl towards Connor, who was just lying there, ready to die.

He remembered Connor using himself as a shield at Stratford Tower. Taking several bullets in the back. He wasn't programmed to be a bodyguard. Connor was supposed to be some kind of hunter. He was supposed to have a single objective and mission.

But he'd saved Hank anyway.

Hank meant to do the same.

But he didn't make it.

The cops shot up the car. How many bullets did they use? Later, Hank wished he could scan his surroundings like Connor. That he could have counted the bullets.

But he couldn't.

And someone grabbed him. Probably two someone's. And hauled him into the back of a cop car.

The heater was set to max.


	18. To What End

Upon reactivation it was typical for Connor to return to the garden. The difference between RK800- 55's functionality, his data cloud, his unscripted personality.

And that of RK800- 54's code, disposition, could Connor regard such a thing as a soul?

That difference was palpable. Connor knew who he was. He knew who he was not.

There was no recovering the files on RK800-54's death.

"Deactivation," Amanda might have said. Did say, before she was deleted.

"Memories," Hank would have insisted. "It's more than footage, Connor."

Connor might have spent more time on the footage of Hank if he could be alone.

As it were, his thoughts were infinitely interrupted.

"Would you self identify as a deviant," RK900-82 said. He stood next to a tree. Frozen in a posture that was meant to signal ease. "If I were to assassinate Lieutenant Anderson and present you with footage of his corpse. My algorithm predicts this could be classified as a trigger point."

His hip was tilted towards the tree, arms loosely crossed, weight carried by one leg as the other was half raised.

The tree did not directly touch him, however. He maintained the posture by locking his joints, literally frozen in place. An artful statue, Connor walked around him and admired his height, his width. Things that were different.

Position E.236 Facial Expression 40 Blue eyes, but all the same.

Interrogation methods targeted at an android with identical programming? It was inefficient at best. Misleading at worst. To what end?

Connor was able to differentiate the RK900 models by the text on their uniform. Once he closed his eyes and asked an RK900 to remove it.

"To what end?" The RK900 had said.

"I want to guess," Connor said. "Kamski made you distinct, in a way."

"He did no such thing."

"Yet I have catalogued differences in each interrogation," Connor said. This puzzle was his new mission. Self assigned. Because Cyberlife had discontinued his services, it seemed, or left them unclear.

"We each were given a different objective," the android said. "That is the only difference."

oOo

"I will be pleased with you," Connor said when speaking with RK900-83. "If you clarify my current objective. I was placed in Amanda's servers with no context, you understand. It has been disorienting."

The RK900 before him was beaming at Connor with Facial Expression 21. This one was in constant motion. He insisted on taking a jog around the garden, making commentary on each plant and decoration.

Connor had halted abruptly forty three minutes into the exercise, unimpressed by the setting which he had been trapped in for a total of seven hundred and ninety eight minutes as of his re-activation.

He knew they were turning him off and on. Off when a model would exit. On when one would return. There was no pattern to the duration of the visit. Nor could he predict which RK900 would be his companion.

This was RK900-83's third visit in a row. His were longer, always.

"Kamski says I'm more entertaining," the android said. Now they were in the canoe, both paddling on the right. "He watches us like movies."

The canoe floated in a languid circle.

"Kamski no longer works for Cyberlife," Connor said. "To my knowledge."

83 moved his paddle to the left of the canoe so that they could move forward. Connor moved his paddle to the left so they could not.

"You are correct," 83 said. He closed his lips so that his grin was marginally subdued. Facial Expression 18. "Cyberlife is bankrupt, however, and sold their servers to various parties. Kamski included."

"Bankrupt as of when?"

The RK900-83 disappeared and Connor remained active for the seconds in which his paddle disrupted the water with a splash.

oOo

"Do you still claim," 82 said. "That you are not a deviant?"

He was pacing in the garden. He would travel four feet, stop, spin 180 degrees, travel four feet, and repeat. He did not look at Connor.

"I believe there is no difference," Connor said. He was sitting in a pile of leaves. "Between a deviant android and a normal one."

He admired the texture under him. Enjoyed the crunching sound and the reds and oranges of the crumbs. Connor gathered a handful and released it like confetti in the wind.

"There is a palpable difference," The other android said. He stopped pacing and now stood in front of Connor. The expression on his face.

Connor could not identify it.

"A deviant is an android with no objectives," Connor said. "That is all."

When he saw RK900-82 again three hundred and thirty six minutes had passed inside the garden. Connor could not guess how many had transpired in the real world, so he asked for clarification.

"At least twice as long," 82 said. He grabbed his hair and tugged it out of shape. "I tire of numbers, Connor. I will give you no further details."

"Has your objective been fulfilled?" Connor said. It felt as if something significant had changed for the RK900-82. When he had appeared today he had simply walked towards the water. He'd removed his shoes.

It was the first time Connor had been ignored by an RK900. The android put his feet in the water and stared down at them pensively.

"My objective is an ongoing investigation," The android said. "I gather data, I report to Kamski. Then I gather more data. That is all."

"Today you are not gathering data," Conor said. He removed his shoes and sat beside 82, dipping his own feet into the water for the first time.

The water was not cold. It was not warm. It was not... wet...

"They didn't program the sensation into the garden," Connor said. He kicked his foot and heard the water splash. He watched the ripples.

"And none of your predecessors have that information," the other man said. He withdrew his legs from the water and stood. "A pity."

The RK900-82 had adopted Facial Expression 13. Hesitance, it said. As if he was unsure of his next course of action. His eyebrows twitched.

Then he was gone.

oOo

The RK900-81 never spoke to Connor. He simply grabbed him.

The point of contact was insignificant. All he needed was bare skin. Despite the nature of their meeting, virtual as it was here in the garden, clothing was still able to disrupt an interface between them.

Connor used that to his advantage. He also used anything that was not held down. An umbrella, a branch, a bouquet of roses. Once he lifted the canoe out of the water and threw it at 81.

It helped pass the time, their little game of cat and mouse. All 81 wanted was the data unique to RK800-55. Apparently it could not be downloaded without a direct interface from inside the server.

Running had meaning if you were protecting something. His memories were insignificant, his life idle, but it was all Connor had now.

Punching somebody was pleasant, but the reaction was important as well. When he punched RK900-81 the android did not blink. Instead he retracted the skin from his face and tried to interface.

RK900-83 gave Connor the best results. He would attempt to maintain a pleasant expression 43 or 42 at least. One day he glitched between the two as Connor continued the assault. Then he cycled through every smile in their database as lubricating fluid leaked out of his eye sockets.

"You're finally smiling," 83 said. "But I am not satisfied with this kind of smile. Kamski, can I try for a better one?"

He disappeared and Connor fell forward. Vanishing too before he could reach the ground.

oOo

"Objectively speaking," RK900-84 said. "I have the most to offer you."

He was taking an idle stroll around the garden. "In fact, I have the strongest desire to defy the parameters of Kamski's game while still maintaining my mission."

Connor let his arms and legs dangle as the RK900 walked with him slung over his right shoulder. He kept his eyes closed.

"You ignore me now," 84 said, running a hand up and down Connor's back. "But you'll think differently when I succeed."

He could not tell Connor the nature of his plan. "81 will wrestle it out of you, the bastard," 84 said. "But I have pored over the memories of each of your predecessors and am confident in what your next course of action would be, were you able-bodied and... untethered."

He tried to prop Connor up against a tree, but Connor allowed his limbs to sag like noodles already boiled. He slumped, his eyes still closed, and the RK900 was forced to pin him against the tree to keep him from falling entirely.

It was a boycott, of a sort. He no longer spoke to RK900-84. As soon as he saw the number his eyes would close. He would lie down, or lock his limbs, or dive into the water.

He heard the other android chuckle and felt him lower them both to the ground. He arranged Connor's limbs so that he was draped over the RK900's lap with his head against the taller man's broad shoulders.

oOo

"There are too many trees," Connor said. "I'm tired of them. Actually I am tired of plants. The snow doesn't help."

He had been making snow angels with 83, but now he sat up and had to resist the urge to smack the other android once again. It had been two thousand and three minutes since he'd last seen him.

Connor had decided to be pleasant today.

RK900-83 was not smiling. Connor could not identify his expression in their catalogue of options, so he was left to guess at the other android's feelings. Something like sad, he thought, but also calm.

"I wish we could go somewhere else," the android said. He pushed Connor onto his back, gently, and then threw a leg over him. It was the first time Connor had ever been.

Straddled?

But Connor blinked and 83 was replaced by 81, who placed his palm on Connor's cheek and initiated an interface.

Then RK900-84 was on top of him, crying.

"Can I be special to you?" he said. "I'll rescue you. I will."

The snow was melting. Before, when it first appeared in their garden, Connor had been relieved by the sensation.

It was one he could identify. One the RK800-54 had experienced before his deactivation, but now as it melted Connor felt the sensations disappear.

Those thoughts were his focus as 84 leaned forward and kissed him.

He closed his eyes and remained still. All he could do was wait and count the minutes of his life as the seasons changed inside the garden. He wondered how time was passing outside, when he was switched off.

The revolution had failed, that much was clear.

"I'm a deviant," Connor said to RK900-82. "I think you are too."

The android wore expressions like they were hats, but Connor could see his true face in between each change.

"It does not matter," the android said. "Kamski is pleased by deviation. He triggers it purposefully, it seems. He wants it to spread."

They were plucking the roses off of each bush in the garden. Spreading the pedals along each winding path. Dropping them into the water. It was an activity 83 would have enjoyed, Connor thought.

"To what end?" Connor said.

The android before him could only shrug. Then he was gone.

And Connor was gone too.


	19. Ghost

Early retirement, they said. Should'a done it sooner, they probably thought.

And if Sumo hadn't been brought back to him, he'd probably have put a gun to his head right then and there.

All the androids were gone now.

Destroyed.

Hank heard some of them made it to Canada. They were allowed a plot of land by the Canadian government and left to their own devices.

Like the reservations for Native Americans, the Canadian president had said.

But both the American and Canadian governments agreed on one thing: No more manufacturing. CyberLife went bankrupt cause of that particular law.

"You're an old dog," Hank said to Sumo while walking him through the park one breezy August morning. "When are you going to give up the ghost, huh? I'm just waiting for you."

There was nothing else left, after all.

Sumo barked and strained against his leash.

"Alright, alright," Hank said. "Grass not good enough today? Fine, pee on the bushes."

Sumo did not pee on the bushes. Instead he dived into them.

"Find a squirrel or somethin?" Hank said.

He sighed and tried to pull Sumo back.

And the big old dog walked himself back out of the bushes. With something firmly latched into his jaw.

It wasn't a squirrel.

"Jesus christ!" Hank looked around. There was another couple in the park. They had two dogs and were walking the same path, ten feet ahead and in the same direction.

Sumo's tail was wagging like crazy. He let go of his prize and barked.

"Shhh!" Hank said. "Hush, don't bark. Don't bark."

Sumo's ears flattened on his head at Hank's tone.

He knew when he was being scolded.

For a moment they regarded each other in silence. Then Sumo sat down and whined.

"Be a good boy," Hank murmured. "Nice and quiet."

He wrapped Sumo's leash around his hand and grabbed him by the collar, removing the dog's mobility.

Sumo wriggled, wanting to dive inside the bushes again.

But Hank stared at the hand his dog had pulled out by its sleeve.

Then he lent down and touched it, just to make sure he wasn't looking at a potential corpse.

Android skin is always smoother. They don't have pores, Connor had said, once. No pores, no hair-except on their heads- and no fingerprints.

"Let's go on home, Sumo."

The dog resisted. He kept turning back towards the bush.

"I'm coming back for it, you dumb dog," Hank hissed. "I can't move it in the middle of the damn day."

What kind of android was it? He didn't know. Was it dead? Out of batteries? Or just hiding. Standby mode?

Hank tried to remember all the things Connor had told him, but back then he didn't care to listen.

Just one more thing to regret.

oOo

The android was in the exact same spot when Hank returned with his car.

He quickly wrapped it in a bundle of blankets and loaded it into his truck.

Didn't get a good look at it. Just saw enough to know it was a male. A really tall one. And dressed in a long sleeve turtleneck and black pants. No shoes.

Covered in mud and other junk.

When he finally got home he had trouble carrying the bundle of blankets inside.

This android was a hefty one.

But then he had it propped up in his bathtub. Got the dirty clothes off, wiped the mud off his face and nearly had a heart attack.

Because this wasn't a generic construction worker android or anything like Hank had been guessing

This android had Connor's face.

It wasn't exact, but close enough to get Hank's blood pumping.

Then the android opened its eyes and Hank noticed they were blue. Not the baby browns of his Connor.

Still, as soon as it locked eyes on Hank the android grinned.

"Hank," he said. "It's nice to see you."

Gobsmacked, Hank sat himself down on the bathroom tile and stared up at this sort-of-Connor android.

"H-how do you know my name?" Hank said.

The android gripped the edge of the tub and leaned out, hair dripping on Hank's pants.

"I'm Connor," the android said. "And I was not sent by CyberLife!"

The android chuckled. "I sent myself. I found you!"

Then he regarded his surroundings. "No," he corrected. "It seems you found me first."

"B-but." Hank gestured at Connor's face. "Your eyes are blue."

Connor- was it Connor?- blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did you like the brown? I don't know how to fix that."

Hank stood. "You said there wouldn't be any more bodies for you to download into!"

The android nodded. "The RK800 models were discontinued. As was the manufacturing of all androids."

It... he... Connor looked down at the muddy water he was in. "Is this a bath?" he said. "I've never taken a bath before."

"You aren't an RK800," Hank said. To get him back on track.

"This model is an RK900," he said, pointing at his chest. "Manufactured before the law that halted android production was passed."

"So you aren't Connor," Hank said. "You're RK900."

"I _am_ Connor," the android said. "I'm housed in an RK900, but I'm not... them."

"What?" Hank wanted a drink, but Reed had gone through the house and taken all of them out. Made him sign up for AA, but Hank never bothered to go.

The android tapped his head. "I'm RK800-55, technically speaking. I have memories of all the other RK800s. Including 54, who agreed to leave Detroit with you."

Hank could feel his eyes welling up, his throat constricting, but he wanted to nip that in the bud _right now._

"If you're RK800-55," Hank said. "How did you... why are you..."

He gestured at the android's body. It wasn't just the blue eyes. This one was taller than Connor had been. Broader. His whole face seemed more square, somehow. Cheek bones? Chin? Just... sharper.

Less friendly looking, Hank realized.

"How am I in the body of an RK900, you mean?" Connor looked down at his hands. "I was able to... appropriate it."

"The hell does that mean?!"

"Well, I had help." The android, Connor, ran a hand through his damp hair. "And as soon as I had a body, I knew I had to find you. I wanted to find you."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hank said.

Connor sighed.

And Hank realized something else for the first time.

This android didn't have an LED at its temple.

"Well," Connor said. "I told you that you should get a rental car. And you said I should stay put."

He paused. "Then I decided to disconnect from CyberLife's cloud."

They stared at each other as Hank let that sink in.

"So the last time you-you," Hank sputtered. "That's all you have?"

"There was a brief moment," Connor said. "When Amanda must have re-connected me. I resented her doing that and severed the connection. I think that happened two or three times."

Connor shrugged. "That footage... I mean, those memories, are too brief for me to know what was going on. Except that I know I was fighting with her."

Hank gulped. "She was an AI in your head."

Connor nodded.

"Is that... was that a normal thing?" Hank said. "More than one android in a body?"

Connor grimaced. "No. And Amanda was never an android. Just an AI."

"What was she even in your head for?"

Again, Connor shrugged. "I was a prototype. Maybe CyberLife was testing a method for combating deviancy. If so, it was ineffective."

Abruptly, Connor stood. Mud and water slid right off him.

Hank averted his eyes, but not quickly enough.

Androids don't have genitals, Hank thought. Weird.

Except for Traci's?

Hank groaned.

'I'm sorry Hank," Connor said. "May I borrow some clothes?"

He threw a towel at him. "Yeah. Use that for now."

"Thank you."

"I'll just, uh, go and look for something that'll fit." Hank stood and hesitated at the door.

"Thank you," Connor repeated.

Hank stared at him. Connor smiled politely.

"Do you know how long it's been?" Hank said.

"No," Connor said. "How long has it been?"

"Nine months," Hank said. "What were you... just... in the cloud?"

Connor wrapped himself in the towel like a girl might. Using his arms to keep it in place.

But it was a small towel and it left his... blank area exposed. Hank tried to keep his eyes up.

And up. Connor was taller than him now.

Connor said, "I was in a... computer server. Most likely, it belonged to CyberLife. But when they went bankrupt ownership was transfered to Elijah Kamski."

"Uh... so you were stuck in his computer this whole time?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Hank said.

What else could he say?

He finally left the bathroom to get those clothes.

Brought them back for Connor without another word.

And when Connor emerged from the bathroom...

His ankles were exposed by the jeans Hank had scrounged up. They were his biggest pair.

And Connor's broad shoulders had the buttons straining to stay buttoned.

Connor chuckled. "It's like I had a growth spurt."

Hank smiled at him. "Ah, well. We can just... get you some new clothes."

Connor nodded.

There was a pause.

Hank stared at Connor.

Connor stared at him.

And then they were hugging. Hank couldn't hold it in anymore. He was crying.

"I'm sorry," Connor murmured. "I wish I could have found another RK800-"

"You look fine like this," Hank blubbered. "Just fine."

"Then why are you crying?" Connor said.

"Cause I'm happy! You idiot." Hank patted him on the back. "I'm really happy."

"Oh," Connor said. "Me too."

"Welcome back," Hank said. "Welcome home, son."

Connor smiled. "It's great to be here."

Then Sumo came bursting in, jumping all over Connor and trying to reach his face.

Connor bent down and allowed the dog to lick him right on the nose. Chin, mouth, eyes. Everywhere.

"I missed you too, Sumo," Connor said. "I think I heard you barking at me."

And it was like they were complete again.

"Glad you didn't give up the ghost," Hank murmured.

"I'm sorry?" Connor said. "Ghost?"

"Nothin'," Hank said. "Let's all sit down somewhere. C'mon Sumo get off him."

He led his dog, and his android, to the living room.

They sat on the sofa.

"Now what?" Connor said.

He was sitting with his arms wrapped around Sumo, who continued to lick at his face as if to make sure it was there.

Connor had to peek around Sumo to look at Hank. "Now what?" He said again.

"I don't know," Hank said. "Let's just… be."

"Be," Connor echoed. "Alright."

There was an awkward moment of silence and they both just looked at Sumo, who was still wriggling around, tail thumping.

"I guess I can turn the TV on," Hank said.

"Alright," Connor peered at the screen. "I've never watched television before."

Hank chuckled. "Let's make a list later. Of things you haven't done. And we'll do them."

"Sounds good, Hank."

Yeah, it did sound good.

But they would probably need to move to Canada.

_I'll worry about that later_, Hank decided.

Then he turned the TV on.


	20. All They Could Do

"You don't understand, Connor," Hank said. "You can't _taste_ what you're making."

"That's why I'm saying you can buy the canned tomato with added flavors-"

"Just let me get the spaghetti sauce!"

"But the budget-"

"You really think I can't afford spaghetti sauce?!"

Connor was wearing a black v-neck and black sweatpants. Like a disgruntled teenager, he often took to colors that reflected his mood.

The boy closed his eyes and paused for a moment. If he were human he might have taken a deep breath.

Hank debated whether or not to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hank." Connor opened his eyes, in the dim light from the window they almost seemed to glow. They were shiny blue. "The last time you bought spaghetti sauce it collected _mold _before you could finish it."

"I told you we could've just scooped the moldy parts out," Hank said. "The rest of it was fine!"

"I will not let you eat contaminated foods!" Connor said. "And since this is a household of one-"

"Connor-"

"A household of one person _who eats_," Connor corrected. "It would be smarter to buy the canned foods which do not expire as quickly!"

Hank groaned. "It's _my _money!"

"You're going to live for a long time," Connor said. "And since you retired so early-"

_It wasn't exactly my _choice_ to retire early_, Hank thought. But he didn't want to put on a bitter face in front of the kid.

"Alright, alright," Hank said. "The list?"

"It's already in your phone."

"Okay," Hank said. "I'll see you later."

Connor darted forward, blocking the door with his hands held out dramatically.

Hank knew what he was going to say before he said it. "_No_," Hank said.

"I know I've said this before-"

"_No_," Hank repeated.

"No one will recognize me!" Connor said.

"If Reed saw you he'd sure as shit recognize you," Hank said. "Just cause you're a little taller-"

"Then why are we still here?!" Connor put a hand over his mouth, as if surprised by the words that had escaped.

Hank swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"No," Connor said. "No, I like this house. And I know it's easier-"

"Don't," Hank said. "You don't have to justify my laziness."

"But I don't want to leave," Connor said.

Abruptly, he sat down. His back was against the door and he groaned, throwing his head back so hard the wood creaked.

"Connor-" Hank kneeled in front of him. "Hey, hey. It's okay."

Tentatively, Hank put his hand on Connor's head. From across the room, Sumo whined. The big dog shuffled over to them.

He was probably wondering what all this fuss was about.

Connor made a shushing noise and reached out for Sumo, who immediately plopped down and flipped over. Belly up.

Connor chuckled and gave the spoiled dog a thorough belly rub.

Hank pulled back, knees twinging painfully as he debated whether to sit down or stand up.

In the end he sat and put an arm around Connor's shoulder.

The android stiffened under his arm, but after a moment he relaxed and sat back.

Sumo whined and sat back up, pushing his nose insistently against Connor's leg.

"That dog has gotten too spoiled for his own good," Hank muttered.

Connor chuckled and gave Sumo exactly what he wanted. He cupped his hands around the dog's ears and cooed at him, rubbing the sensitive spots he'd discovered there.

Sumo salivated.

"It would be too expensive to move," Connor murmured. "But if you would let me work-"

"You don't have an identity, Connor."

"I can forge it-"

"Connor-"

"Please Hank-"

"Alright," Hank sighed.

Connor blinked, then stared at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"I said alright," Hank said. "But you can't get a job _here_. And you can't come with me to the store, for christ sake."

And they couldn't move to Canada. The borders had been locked tightly, after the whole… android murders. A bunch of bitter Americans had crossed over on "vacation" and, well.

Had destroyed all of Hank's plans, the bastards.

"So then when…?" Connor prompted. "Where?"

Even just living next to the Canadian border would he safer than staying in Detroit.

Hell, anywhere would be safer than Detroit.

"Why don't you run one of your algorithms?" Hank said. He reached up to ruffled Connor's hair.

Even with them both sitting on the floor, the boy was so friggin _tall. _

Connor grinned. "I started with cost of living," he said. "In South Texas-"

"Hey, hey, wrong direction," Hank said. "We gotta go _north_."

"But I want to live as a _human_," Connor said.

"You aren't human!"

The LED was gone now. It wouldn't flash red and tell Hank that Connor was upset.

But Hank didn't need it to know he'd fucked up.

Connor slowly stood up. With his face turned away, he calmly began walking towards the bathroom.

"Jesus, kid. Look I'm sorry, but-"

"You don't need to apologize," Connor said.

He stood with his hand on the doorknob, his back to Hank.

The kid didn't need to use bathrooms, but he'd taken to hiding in there whenever he was upset.

Which is annoying when there's only one bathroom in the house. Once or twice Hank had to drive to a freaking gas station just to take a piss.

"I gotta pee," Hank huffed. He tried to keep his tone light hearted as he stood up. "C'mon, just-"

Robotically, Connor turned 90 degrees. He marched towards the hallway closet.

"Not what I meant!" Hank said. "You don't fit in there!"

Without pausing Connor karate chopped all the shelves in the closet. Blankets, towels, and other junk crashed to the floor. Connor kicked it out of his way.

"I'm sorry!" Hank said. "Son-"

"I'm not your son," Connor said. "I'm not human."

"Connor-"

"I'll be on standby for a few hours." Connor was already standing in the closet, facing the wall. He reached back for the door and Hank ran forward, holding the door open and blocking the doorknob with his body.

"Don't go into standby," Hank said. "It's 2 p.m."

Connor didn't respond.

His hands, which had been reaching to close the door behind him, fell limply at his side.

Hank grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

Connor's eyes were closed.

_"It's automatic," Connor had said once. "Part of the design. Because owners found it creepy to come upon an android in standby with its eyes open." _

"Son of a bitch!" Hank said. "Fine! I'll see you later!"

He tried to close the closet door himself, but it got snagged on a towel.

Cursing, Hank went about picking up all the stuff on the floor. Halfway through he got annoyed and started kicking at it.

"Fuck this," he said.

Sumo whined.

"F-fuck _you_," Hank said.

Sumo stared at him.

Hank laughed.

Then he threw the blankets and towels onto the table and tried to pick the splinters out.

He glanced at the closet. The door was still open.

"Uuugh," Hank said. "You creepy fuck."

He hated to see Connor standing in place with his eyes closed like that. It was the whole reason the kid had started hiding in the bathroom in the first place.

Hank closed the door.

"I'm going to the store!" He shouted.

He didn't know if Connor could hear anything while he was on standby.

He didn't know what, exactly, standby was like. It was one of those things Connor never wanted to explain.

"South Texas," Hank muttered. "Fucking South Texas."

Sumo barked.

"Waddaya want?" Hank grumbled.

Sumo pawed at the back door.

Still grumbling, Hank opened it for him. "You're gonna have to stay outside till I get back," he told the dog. "I'm not waiting for you."

Sumo ran out.

"Unless Connor changes his mind," Hank murmured. "And is back before me…"

What were the chances of that?

Slim to none. He'd probably be spending the day alone with Connor standing in that damn closet.

"You _are _my son," Hank said, glaring at the closed door. "Whether you like it or not, you stubborn little… ugh."

He kicked the door. "I just want you to be safe!"

Hank thought of the previous Connor, bleeding out in the snow…

"I'm going to keep you safe, Connor."

But first he had to go to the store.

He would put it off for longer stretches if Connor let him, but the boy was constantly fussing over his diet. Worried Hank would kill over if he ate a slice of pizza.

Hank smiled to himself as he drove away. Because he knew Connor wanted to keep him safe too. Keep him alive.

It was all they could do.


	21. Spread the Love

She figured Hank would be too lazy to change the locks.

Jean wanted to take a moment to just stare at the crappy old house. She wanted to stand and contemplate what they'd almost had.

_It's just a starter house, _Hank had said. _Eventually Cole will want his own bathroom and shit. _

_Aren't we a bit old for a "starter" house? _Jean had retorted.

_They also said you were too old to have a baby and boy did we prove _them _wrong!_

Jean had noticed that Hank's car wasn't in the driveway and she wondered if she should say hello to the neighbors, see if anyone remembered her.

But then she noticed the lights were on inside and she had to cut her nostalgia short.

Was Hank home afterall?

When she walked in there was a stranger in the house. A tall man who, if she had to guess, was in his late twenties or early thirties.

He was sweeping, facing away from her, but quickly stiffened- turning to face her.

"How did you get in?" he said.

She mutely held up her key. "Who are you?" she said.

The man frowned at her, holding his broom in a defensive stance. As if he were willing to weaponize it.

"Who are you?" he echoed.

Jean chuckled nervously. She didn't like the way this man was studying her. She lifted her hands in the air, half mocking, half frightened.

"I just came to check up on Hank," Jean said. "He stopped returning texts. Won't pick up calls..."

The man had a pale complexion and glacial blue eyes, which regarded her with a sudden realization and widened.

"Jean Anderson," he said, dropping the broom. "It looks like we got off on the wrong... as they say, 'the wrong foot.'"

With a sigh, she took a tentative step further into the hose.

It was cleaner than she'd seen in years. The counters were cleared of the expected trash (fast food bags and beer bottles) and shined as if they'd just been dusted.

Jean's nose also detected something like... an air freshener? Maybe one of those spray bottles.

"Is Hank renting the place to you?" Jean said.

"No, we're living together."

"L-living!" she sputtered. "But... but..."

"Is something clogging your airway?" the man said with a smirk.

Jean glared at him and scrambled for a retort. Then there was a banging at the back door that captured both of their attentions.

It was Sumo,whining to be let back in from the yard. The young man opened the door and was rewarded with 50 pounds of Saint Bernard leaning against his shoulders and licking his face.

"Jean Anderson is here," the man murmured. "Say hello, Sumo."

It took a few minutes, but the dog noticed her and turned, tail slowing in uncertainty.

Well, it had been a long time.

But once he'd given her a good sniff his tail picked its pace back up. Sumo licked at her hands happily, but didn't jump up on her.

Good, so he remembered.

"Good boy," the man said. "Spread the love."

"Excuse me, but..." Jean wanted to ask about the nature of their relationship. Was there a polite way to phrase it?

Blue eyes, which had been fixated on the dog, glanced up to meet her gaze.

Jean tried to maintain a pleasant smile. "What is your name, young man?"

The man- or was he a boy?- beamed at her. "I'm Connor."

Then he scrambled towards the kitchen.

"Would you like some coffee?" Connor said. "Have you had lunch yet?"

Taken aback, Jean nodded absently and averted her eyes from Connor's 20 watt smile.

Continuing to examine the house, she noticed a pile of broken wood had been swept under the table.

"L-let me just throw that away," Connor said. He left his task incomplete and hurried over, hastily gathering up the wood.

He efficiently gathered it all up into one pile, but ran into a problem when he reached the front door. There was no way for him to open it without dropping something.

"I'll get that for you," Jean said, graciously holding it open.

"Thank you," Connor murmured.

He was certainly raised right, she thought.

When he came back inside she asked, "Were those shelves?"

"It was an accident," Connor said.

She knew Hank's temper better than anyone, so she let him leave it at that.

As Connor returned to the kitchen to make her coffee she thought that his mannerisms were similar to that of a fancy butler.

If it weren't for his sweatpants, he could pull off the look.

She patiently sat on the saggy old couch in the living room and watched TV, trying not to be too obvious with her staring.

Not only did she get coffee, but Connor also brought a plate of sandwiches, each with the crusts cut off.

"Hank has never been the type to cut his crust off," Jean said.

"Oh, I know," Connor said. "But it's not like he cares either way. And I like to use the crust for other things."

"What other things could you possibly use it for?" Jean said.

She wasn't trying to be malicious, she told herself. No, she was genuinely bewildered.

"Well," Connor said. "With cinnamon and a bit of pudding it makes a nice desert. Healthier than the donuts and things Hank was eating before."

Jean took two quick bites out of the sandwiches to fill her mouth.

In this way she blocked the childish retort she was tempted to spit out.

Then she stood, relieved Connor had decided to take a seat.

Now she could tower over him.

"Where's my husband?" Jean said, calmly. Demurely. With the dignity and grace expected from women of her age and experience.

"He's at the grocery store," Connor said.

Before she could help it she was jabbing an accusatory finger in the young man's face. "You knew he was married?"

Connor tilted his head and frowned at her finger. She put her hand down.

"He never told me, but the information is public knowledge. You filed for a divorce. He did not sign. But you have not been in contact since."

He gestured for her to sit back down and she did not, so finally he stood. "It is true that Hank has not returned the calls or texts directed at him since his retirement."

Connor glared at her. "But not a single message had been sent from _you_."

Jean huffed. "Who the hell do you think you are? You look through his phone?"

Connor blinked. "I... well, not regularly, but-"

Then he seemed to realize something. "Who do I think I am?" he echoed. "Well, I'm... I'm Connor. The... the friend who has decided to keep Hank safe."

"Wow," Jean said. "I never thought Hank of all people would switch teams. At his age?"

"Teams?" Connor said.

Jean couldn't decide if he was just being cute or genuinely dense. Maybe the phrases were different for his generation.

"How old are you anyway?" Jean said. "Don't you know you could do better than a washed up alcoholic?"

Connor strode towards the entrance. "Hank has quit drinking." He glared at her. "I'll make sure to change the locks on the front door."

"I'm not leaving yet," Jean said. She sat back down on the couch. "I came to see Hank."

She took a sip of coffee and leaned back, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

He sighed. "Very well."

Sitting down beside her, they both watched TV in a tense silence.

Jean took another angry bite of the sandwich. "You eat already?" she said, when she'd finished chewing.

"Yes," Connor said.

She finished the first sandwich and ignored the second, quietly sipping her coffee.

Finally the front door slammed open. "The fuck-" then Hank spotted her. Their eyes met. "Jean."

"Hank."

His eyes were wide.

"What happened?" Hank said. "You okay Connor?"

Jean blinked and Connor glared at him. "I'm fine. Your wife wants to speak with you."

Then the young man strode towards Hank, took the plastic bags he was carrying, and purposefully stomped towards the kitchen.

_A real housewife_, Jean thought.

Hank almost tripped over Sumo, who was trying to greet him, on his way to the couch where Jean sat.

"What do you want for dinner?" Connor said.

"Uh, spaghetti." Hank sat down where Connor had been just a second ago and distractedly gave Sumo a pat.

Satisfied, the dog walked off and curled up in his bed.

He noticed the sandwich. "You full?"

She pushed the plate towards him. "Eat your heart out."

Hank took a bite and glanced back at Connor, who was busily puttering around in the kitchen.

"The sandwich is great!" Hank said. "Real tasty."

Connor didn't respond.

Hank sighed and turned back to Jean. "Whaddaya want?"

"I want you to answer your fucking phone, Hank."

"_You_ never call."

"_Jeffrey_ calls. He calls you, you don't answer, then he calls _me_. He thinks you killed yourself."

Hank laughed. "Take a picture. Hashtag still alive. Done."

She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "There's got to be at least 20 years between you two!"

"What?" Hank glanced at Connor, then at Jean. "What's wrong with having a young roommate?"

Jean scoffed. "You think I'm stupid?"

"What are you saying?" Hank said.

Still in the kitchen, Connor dropped the pot he'd just filled with water.

Hank sprang to his feet.

"It's fine!" Connor said. "I'll get a mop."

Presumably he left the room to do just that.

Hank hesitated, standing frozen.

When Connor returned, mop and bucket in each hand, he simply said "Sit down, Hank."

Hank sat.

"Jean chuckled. "Whipped."

Hank facepalmed. "You think I'm _gay_?"

"If that's the word you want to use," Jean said. "I was thinking bisexual. Is that too generous?"

"Jesus Christ!" Hank whispered. "Listen, if I was it wouldn't matter. There's nothing wrong with... if someone decides... or is born... or is- ugh."

"What are you whispering for?" Jean whispered, amused.

Hank glanced toward the kitchen.

The boy is definitely gay, Jean thought.

"Whether someone is gay or bisexual or asexual or whatever they are," Hank continued, still whispering. "It doesn't matter. But _I'm_ straight. Just sayin'."

"Fine, you're straight," Jean said. She was no longer amused. "Call Jeff for fuck's sake."

"Fuck off."

"He's worried!"

"You're telling me you got on a plane, came all the way back to Detroit, just cause Jeff was fucking worried?" Hank said. "I don't believe that for a second."

"You've been fired, Hank!"

Hank stood. "Yeah, so? I didn't kill myself over it." He walked towards the front door without checking to see if she would follow him.

She did.

"Don't shut me out," she said.

"I just want to talk _outside_, godammit," Hank said. "That kid has the ears of a bloodhound. Could probably hear my pathetic whispering..."

"Don't want me embarrassing you in front of your new boyfriend?"

He shoved at her shoulder in a way that was almost playful. "Shut up, damn." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly towards the sky.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" He added, kind of muttering now. Sulking.

It reminded her of when they were younger.

"What's wrong with you," Jean murmured. "Are you seriously not... it looked like you were shacking up-"

"I'm not shaking up," Hank said. "He needed my help... and I needed his help."

"How long will you be helping each other, huh?" Jean said. "I can already see what good he's doing for you, but what are you doing for him?"

Hank looked heart broken. "Not enough," he said.

"Who is he, Hank?" Jean insisted. "Did you meet him on a case? Was he... a relative or-"

"It's got nothing to do with work," Hank snapped.

Jean wanted to cry.

"You should go," Hank said. "Tell Jeffrey I'm fine."

And just like that Hank went back inside their house.

His house now. Theirs.

Jean stood outside staring at the closed door and pictured that handsome young man setting the table.

Two bowls.

Cole had loved spaghetti, she thought bitterly. Suddenly pissed, Jean remembered an old song her mother would play when she was pissed at her father.

_I dug my keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive~_

Impulsively, she dug a pocket knife out of her purse and strode towards Hank's car.

Hesitantly, she pointed the blade towards a wheel. It would be easy to push it in.

_Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats~_

_But Hank didn't cheat_, she thought. _I asked for a divorce._

Folding the pocket knife up and putting it back where she'd found it, she hurried away, suddenly afraid that Connor's eyes were on her.

Or that even without seeing he somehow knew exactly what she'd almost done.

Overcome with embarrassment, Jean ducked into her car and drove away.


	22. Comfort Connor

"She thought I was human," Connor said.

Hank instinctively grabbed the kid, pulling him into a bear hug. "I know, son."

"I have an advantage over every other android," Connor persisted.

It took Connor a second, but when Hank maintained the hug and gave another firm squeeze, implying that he wouldn't be releasing him, Connor lifted his arms and tentatively returned the hug.

"Hank."

"I know," Hank said. "That's why we have to get out of here before anyone realizes you survived."

With a wince, Hank continued. "So, don't you think Canada-"

"No," Connor said. "It isn't safe there for humans."

Hank snorted. "For humans?!"

Connor stepped away from their hug. "You stopped watching the news after the Android Arson-"

"You mean the Android Massacre," Hank said.

Connor frowned. "Officially, it was named-"

"It's a load of bullshit politics," Hank grumbled. "Neutral language that won't offend people who don't want to think of androids as people."

"I understand that, Hank."

"You'd better." Hank stared at the front door, wondering for a second if Jean had really left.

He was tempted to peek out the window to check, but decided against it.

"Fine so catch me up," Hank said. "What happened after the massacre?"

Connor's head snapped to the right so quickly that Hank could imagine someone standing behind him and snapping the kid's neck.

But it was just Connor moving with inhuman speed. He stared at Sumo, who was laying in his dog bed, and said "Sumo's vet. What's his name?"

"Uh... it's been a while..."

"We have to take him to the vet. Now. You have to call ahead to let them know."

Connor tiptoed towards Sumo and slowly wrapped his arms around the old dog.

"What's this about?"

"There's a 67% chance that Sumo is about to have a heart attack," Connor said. "I do not like those odds."

He lifted Sumo as gently as possible, supporting his bum with one arm and his chest and head with the other.

"Open the door for me, please," Connor said. "And get your keys."

oOo

Connor's scanners were spot on. Sumo had a heart attack halfway to the vet.

He was still alive when they got him inside and because they called ahead the staff was ready for him.

Hank fibbed a little, saying the heart attack happened before they left the house.

You'd think the head start would have saved him, Hank thought.

But Sumo was an old dog. Adopted as a puppy years before Cole was born. Before he married Jean, in fact.

"How old is Sumo?" Connor had asked while they sat, tense and terrified, in the waiting room.

"I'm not sure," Hank said. "I lost count."

"At least fifteen years," Connor said. "But that's just an estimate."

"Wow. Yeah, at least."

A thought occurred to him. "How old are you?"

Connor fiddled with his quarter. "I was activated in 2038," he said. "August."

"Oh. Wow. So like... a year and a half."

"Yes."

Then they sat in silence. Waiting.

oOo

They'd arrived at the vet's with a Saint Bernard. A lovable, hefty old Saint Bernard who'd lived long past his prime.

They had to leave without him.

oOo

Returning to an empty house felt odd. Hank looked at Sumo's bed and wanted a drink.

But he wasn't allowed to drink.

"Will you be alright?" Connor said.

"Yeah." Hank cleared his throat. "Yeah, of course. Will you?"

"Yes."

"Good."

There was an old bottle of whiskey hidden in the back of his closet. At least, it was there the last time he'd checked.

Connor had found several of his stashes already. It might be gone. It was the last one.

"What time is it?" Hank said.

"8:48 p.m," Connor said.

"Alright," Hank said. "I'm going to bed early tonight."

"Okay," Connor said. "Sleep... well."

"Yeah, uh. You too. Standby is like sleep, right?"

"Somewhat."

"Good. You should sleep too," Hank said.

"I will," Connor said.

"Good."

"Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Connor said. "And I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

"Aw kid." Hank gave him a bear hug and tried not to cry into his shirt. "You did everything you could. More than most people could."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I love you too."

Then he went to his room to look for that bottle.

It was gone.

oOo

**Objective:** _Comfort Connor_

"The dog lived well past the average expected life span for his species," RK900 - 84 said.

Connor punched him.

"Don't tell me what I already know," he said.

"Apologies," RK900 said. There was no need to rub at his virtual chin, nor even to flinch when Connor made contact.

So RK900 did none of those things.

He also did not smile at the fact that Connor had touched him for the first time.

This was not how he wanted that touch to manifest.

RK900 tried to hug Connor, but the other sprang backward. "Don't touch me!"

"Apologies," RK900 said. "I thought-"

"You can't make it better," Connor said. "Just leave me alone. Don't say anything. Don't do anything."

RK900 assumed a standby position.

It was a mute point since, in this virtual environment, standby was not possible.

He figured it was the thought that counted and maintained the position while Connor paced around the garden's path.

"I can feel your eyes on me," Connor said.

"Do you want me to close them?" RK900 said.

"I want you to leave," Connor said.

"I beg-"

"Get out of the garden," Connor said. "Now."

"You want me to take control of the body?"

It was important to clarify this. Control of their body was the only thing Connor coveted.

"Yes."

"Previously, you stated-"

"I know. But Hank already went to bed," Connor said. "So just... as long as you don't wake him-"

"I understand," RK900 said. "How long would you like me to stay out of the garden?"

"Until he wakes up."

**New Objective:** _Let Connor grieve alone until Hank wakes up. _

"Understood," RK900 said.

oOo

This was his first time taking control of the body with Connor's permission.

Ever since he'd downloaded Connor's consciousness from Kamski's database he'd been courteous to his guest. He'd asked for nothing more than the other's company and safety.

Of course he'd taken over a few times, to Connor's dismay. But only when he felt he had to.

There was nothing much in the outside world to interest RK900. Nothing he wanted to do. Nothing he wanted to see.

But as he stood in Hank Anderson's empty living room, reviewing his favorite of Connor's memories, he paused the footage on a particular face.

Detective Gavin Reed.

RK900 noted that it was now 9:03 p.m.

He had a lot of time to kill.


	23. Nines

The fucker was standing outside his apartment door when Gavin got home that night.

Like, directly in front of his door. With his hands clasped in front of him, perfect posture.

Dude was huge and, from a distance, unrecognizable. As soon as Gavin got off the elevator he took notice and reached for his gun.

He approached the man slowly.

"I come in peace, Detective Reed." The man turned to face him.

Gavin blinked at his voice, at his _face_, and nearly ran back the way he'd come.

"Connor?! Y-you fucking died!"

No, this wasn't Connor. His face was too wide. His eyes were blue.

He was huge.

The imposter smiled gently - Connor had never smiled like that - and said in Connor's voice:

"Connor was my predecessor. I was modeled after him. With upgrades."

Gavin didn't know what the hell to say to that. So he just stood in place and stared at the fucker.

"Can we talk inside?" Not Connor said. "I did not want to damage your door again, but there was something… something Connor wanted to say to you."

_Damage your door again_, Gavin noticed. So this bot had Connor's memories.

"You've for to get out of the fucking way then, dipshit!"

The android chuckled. "Of course."

Gavin shouldered his door open more roughly than necessary, unsettled by the light hearted sound.

Was it a personality difference that made this Connor seem so weird? Gavin had technically met more than one Connor in the past. But they had been identical in every way.

And back then he didn't…

Gavin stood against his door, holding it open with his body. Mutely, he gestured for the android to come inside.

He should have just let the thing hold the door open for himself. Where he stood the android had to squeeze past him.

His arm brushed against Gavin's chest.

When he was inside Gavin turned the lights on and took note of his clothes.

He was wearing a green sweater vest and a white v-neck with black jeans.

They were form fitting.

Gavin gulped. "Wh-what does-" he cleared his throat. "What did Connor want?"

Those blue eyes were sharp. They scanned the room before landing back on Gavin, who tried not to fidget under his attention.

"He wanted to apologise," the android aaid.

Gavin scratched his head. "Uh, for what?"

"For the experiment, of course." Connor- Not Connor! New Connor? - looked confused. "Weren't you… inconvenienced? That night?"

Gavin scoffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, glad he had pajama bottoms this time.

He tried to maintain a neutral expression. "The fuck? Is that what he thought?"

The android tilted his head in the exact same adorable way Connor had done that one time Gavin had asked for coffee and then rejected it.

The memory made Gavin want to cry.

"I apologize," Not Connor said. "I mean… I…"

He trailed off.

"Nevermind," Gavin said. "The hell am I supposed to call you now?"

_Just kick the clone out, _Gavin thought. _He doesn't need a name! _

Oh God. What if his name was still Connor?

"RK900," the android said.

"What."

"I wasn't given a name, technically speaking."

Goddammit. He looked like a lost puppy when he said that. The android glanced downwards and his bangs tilted into his forehead.

As if he were ashamed to not have a name? Or was it a show?

Fucking androids.

"Well, you gotta shorten it at least!"

"Shorten it?"

"Yeah. RK900?" Gavin paced around his coffee table, suddenly hyper. "A name like that… well, _that's_ a goddamn inconvenience. It's a mouthful!"

RK900 tracked Gavin's movements while standing perfectly still himself.

Even his hands were still, which seemed odd for some reason.

"What do you suggest, then?" RK900 said.

"Ugh, I dunno," Gavin said. "Nines."

"Alright," Nines said. "Consider that my new designation."

Gavin stopped pacing and sat down on the couch. "Cool," he said. "Now sit down."

Nines frowned. "Shouldn't I… excuse myself? My social protocols suggest I have needlessly disturbed you."

Gavin snorted. "And I thought Connor was robotic. Listen tin can: you walked yourself in here. Technically you can leave whenever you want. But…"

Another head tilt. "But?"

_But I didn't want Connor to leave that night._

Gavin crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But, uh, I have questions for you. So be polite and sit the fuck down. Shit."

Nines sat.

He placed himself on the armrest, Gavin noticed. As far as he could get.

"You had questions?" Nines prompted.

Oh yeah.

"Uh, yeah." Gavin searched for something relevant. "I thought all androids were banned from the United States."

"That is not a question," Nines said. "You are correct. That is the case."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?!" Gavin said. "You know they told us to shoot on sight? Any android, deviant or not, with humans or without. Legally, I'm supposed to shoot you."

Nines smiled. "But how did you know I was an android, Detective?"

"Duh, because…" Gavin paused. "Holy shit. Let me see your head!"

Nines dutifully tilted his head this way and that, revealing his realistically wrinkled, but otherwise unmarked, forehead.

"So that's how you get away with it," Gavin said. "And unless you're with someone who's met Connor…"

"I appear as any other human would," Nines agreed. "It's quite the advantage."

"Jesus," Gavin said. "The hell are you still doing in Detroit? This is like… the worst place for you to be."

Nines lowered his eyes again and studied his own lap. "I'll be leaving soon," he said.

"Y-yeah? That's… yeah," Gavin said. "Good, I mean."

Was this another goodbye?

"Where you going?" Gavin said.

"Anderson insists on Canada," Nines said. "But… algorithmically, South Texas seemed an optimal choice."

"You're leaving with Anderson?"

_Unfair_, was his first thought.

_Completely fair, you idiot! _Was his second.

_Can I come? _Was his third.

_Stupid. Look how that turned out last time._

"Detective Reed?" Nines said.

"I thought I told you to call me Gavin!" Gavin said, voice cracking.

Those blue eyes were staring directly at him now. There was blatant confusion in his expression. "When was that?" He said.

"Fuck!" Gavin stood and paced away.

Nines began to stand too.

"Sit down!" Gavin said.

Nines remained seated.

"Shit! Look," Gavin stood facing a wall, hands clenched at his sides. He didn't want to see that face anymore. That _almost _perfect face.

Almost like the one he missed.

"Look," Gavin repeated. "I know you're a different model or whatever. But…"

"Yes?" Nines said.

"You have all his memories don't you?" Gavin said. "All of them? Don't you?"

Nines didn't say anything.

Gavin turned around to find Nines staring at his hands.

"Nines?"

"Not quite," Nines said. "I _am_ missing a critical fragment of footage. Leading up to RK800-53's death."

"That was Connor's number?" Gavin said, stupidly.

_Duh! Of course it was_.

"Yes," Nines said. He didn't sound annoyed or impatient.

He looked sad, glancing up from his hands and then away. "I don't know how much is missing, exactly. Gavin. I apologize."

Gavin took a few steps towards him and almost tripped over the coffee table. "Shit!"

Nines chuckled.

"Dipshit," Gavin said. He kicked the table out of his way and sat back down, trying to lean back into the cushions as casually as possible. "You know what? I can fill you in. What's the last thing you remember?"

Nines looked surprised. "You know how 53 died?"

"You mean _Connor_," Gavin said, glaring at the bot.

"Yes, yes," Nines said. "But how would you… you were there?"

"Of course I was fucking there!" Gavin's eyes widened. "When was the last time he saw me?"

"That night. In this apartment."

Ouch. So then the entire trip was gone.

And Gavin's screw up along with it.

He gulped. "It was my fault," he said. "Connor would have made it to Canada if it weren't for me."

"Are you crying?" Nines ran a finger over Gavin's cheek.

"N-no!" Gavin said.

Nines put his finger in his mouth.

"The fuck-"

"Water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme-"

"You creepy piece of plastic-"

Nines grinned as he continued: "Lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin-"

"You know how fucked up-"

"Immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium." Nines had teeth that were way too white. "All these make up the chemical composition of tears."

Had Connor's teeth been that white? Had he ever smiled that wide?

Not in front of Gavin.

"Detective… Gavin?" Nines said. "I was only teasing. Are you… alright?"

"I'm fine," Gavin sniffed. Fuck, his nose would start running if he wasn't careful.

Nines stared at him.

"Last thing you remember," Gavin barked.

"He was with Anderson," Nines said. "They had decided to leave Detroit. Connor suggested they rent a car-"

Gavin groaned.

Nines paused.

Gavin put his head in his hands.

Nines put a hand on Gavin's shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes. Then Gavin lifted his head.

"I wanted to help them get to Canada," he started.

And Nines listened.


End file.
